


Who's to Say 'verse. (Complete)

by millygal



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 41,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Tyler's wedding day dawns bright and early</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Truth be told

Traditionally, stag do's are loud raucous affairs with copious amounts of booze and several morally ambiguous birds hanging about.

Sam Tyler is anything but traditional, so Gene, being his best man and all, has had to come up with something that suits the pair of them. A compromise, trust them to be able to compromise over birds and booze.

They're sat in Gene's house, his missus is away for the weekend. They've got the place to themselves. They've got a bottle of Gene's finest brandy each. The night's wearing on and the risk of hangovers for groom and best man alike is growing with every glass of burning liquid.

While Sam sits and wonders if he'll be able to hear the Reverend over his banging head in the morning. Gene sits and watches the play of emotions flit over Sam's face, fervently wishing that he could think of something, anything, to talk him out of stumbling down that isle tomorrow.

The problem is, Sam's worked his way under Gene's skin. From the moment he got here, the moment he came shouting and hollering into Gene's life, he's been steadily worming his way into Gene's system.

So much so that when Sam asked Gene to take on the mantle of best man, the simultaneous feelings of pride and pain were so mingled he couldn't tell them apart.

Sam's like a drug. You know you shouldn't, that it'll probably kill you in the end and you'd be far better off not going there, but there's that pull of addiction that's unbreakable. They say if you don't admit you need help then there is no help.

Gene admits it but doesn't want help.

If he can't have Sam in the way he wants then he'll take him any way he can get him. At least this way he gets to keep a watchful eye as Sam makes the biggest mistake of his life.

Gene knows, Sam knows. Sam knows exactly how affected Gene is because he can see the same affects in his DI's eyes. Everytime they fight, everytime they disagree about something, it's there, lurking.

The spark that tells Gene, Sam wants him as much as he wants Sam. Difference is, Sam isn't willing to risk it all for something that could ruin them both.

It's worse when they work together. This so called synchronised policing method they've adopted. They're on the same wavelength and when that happens Gene can feel the pull even more. Dragging at his gut, making his head throb.

The remarks, the looks, the flirty behaviour all serves to drive Gene bloody fuckin' insane.

It isn't fair either. Gene himself is married, has a home and a life. A career that could be flushed straight down the pan if anyone found out he was hankering after his male DI.

He's sure it's not love, pretty sure anyway. Just unresolved lust. Maybe if they got on and shagged he'd be able to move on and go back to being Sam's best mate and worst enemy without the need for sweaty violent sex keep rearing it's ugly head.

As it is Gene thinks he might be forced to pin Sam down and have 'the' talk with him. The one he promised himself he'd never ever have.

They drink, they joke and they sit in companionable silence. Both men lost in their own little worlds. The night wears on and they get steadily more drunk, even knowing they have to be up, pressed and dressed at some ungodly hour.

Eventually Sam slurs that he has to go to bed. Gene stands and offers his hand, helping Tyler off his sofa. The spark Gene feels crack across his palm is a physical thing. Sam can't have failed to notice it. It's a sting in the air, a taste of something forbidden.

Sam's eyes widen and Gene gathers a little back bone. Nothing does it for your sense of bravery quite like two quarts of brandy.

Gripping Sam's hand tighter, Gene pulls him into his body, wrapping his other arm around his shoulders.

Sam's still got the deer in headlights look, doesn't seem to be able to function properly. Another advantage of alcohol addled confusion, low speed reactions.

It allows Gene to snake the hand nestled between them up and over Sam's throat. Tilting Sam's chin, giving him better access, Gene lowers his lips to Sam's jugular and sucks on his pulse point.

It takes Sam a second but he's finally responding, squirming in Gene's grasp. Mewling and moaning at the pressure on his throat.

Gene takes that as a good sign and trails his lips upwards, placing them over Sam's. Sam gasps, opening his mouth, letting Gene slip his tongue inside.

They fight for a while, tongue against tongue, lips and teeth clashing. Eventually they settle into a rhythm they can both live with.

Gene's just about to suggest they take this somewhere more comfortable when Sam stiffens. Gene knows the moment Sam's lust singed brain has made the connection between Gene and the lips currently covering his own.

Sam pushes against Gene's chest and stumbles from his grip, shaking his head. The look in Sam's eyes is enough to make Gene's stomach drop to his toes.

"No, what..Christ, No!"

Gene rakes shaky fingers through mussed hair and settles a look on Sam, willing, desperately willing him to see this for what it is.

"Sam, please..I"

"We can't. Gene, I'm sor...sorry but we can't. I'm getting married in 6 hours"

"Tyler, don't do this....don't make the biggest mis..."

Gene doesn't finish, Sam smacks him square in the jaw. One single punch just to stop him saying the words Sam truly can not hear right now.

"No. End of. We're friends Gene. I...I...but I can't..What about Annie?"

Gene sighs and lets his eyes flutter shut. Attempting to stamp down on the bitterness rising up his throat.

"'Kay, I'm sorry. Shouldn't 'ave...Look lets just go to bed and get your soppy arse married tomorrow, okay?"

Sam looks Gene over once more, the pain of having to make this decision evident on his face. He never was very good at hiding his feelings, this one. Then he turns on his heel and heads upstairs, quietly pulling the living room door shut behind him.

Gene drops into the nearest chair, letting his head fall into his hands. Gritting his teeth he takes a couple of steadying breaths and then follows. Hovering outside the guest bedroom, he contemplates knocking but then dismisses the thought.

Shuffling to his own room, Gene shuts the door and attempts to get some sleep.

*********************

Sam Tyler's wedding day dawns bright and early, birds are singing and the sun is shining and Gene Hunt could do with a shot gun for the noise and a pair of sunnies for the light.

His head is pounding but he's got a clear memory of everything that happened last night. He wonders if Sam remembers anything. Wonders if he'll call him on it. He hopes not. In the harsh light of day, he doesn't think he could handle having to tell Tyler he wants him pretty much more than he's ever wanted anyone.

Thing is, he'd probably end up being so brutally honest that neither one of them would recover from it. So, he hopes Sam has the sense to keep his mouth shut.

They get up, fidget around each other and eventually make it to the church on time.

Gene has to admit, Cartwright looks absolutely gorgeous in her wedding dress and Sam was always meant for a suit. He looks like James Bond. That image makes Gene chuckle. Tyler as Bond..that'd be an interesting movie.

It gets to the part in the ceremony where the Reverend asks if anyone knows any lawful reason why these two should not, blah blah blah.

Sam looks over Annie's shoulder at Gene and there's something in his eyes. Something asking Gene to say or not say anything. Gene isn't sure. It's almost as if Sam is trying to talk to him with his gaze, Gene can hear his voice 'Guv? Come on then, do it' but he can't.

Gene just can't say anything in front of all these people and as the bloke in the dog collar carries on, Gene's stomach flips, a sense of real loss takes hold somewhere deep. He feels like he's lost his chance and it's like a sucker punch to the gut, suddenly he can't breath, can't think, can't stand it.

The rings are requested and as Gene hands Sam's to him, their fingers brush and it feels electric and wrong, wrong to be having these urges right in front of Sam's almost wife, but he can't help it.

Finally the Reverend announces them man and wife. Everyone claps, Sam and Annie kiss and everyone rises to watch them walk down the isle.

Gene can see Annie's mum, sat across from them, she's got tears in her eyes and he can feel himself welling up. Not for the same reasons as Mrs Cartwright but he doesn't correct Chris when he punches him in the shoulder and tells him he's a soppy sod.

As everyone else starts to leave, Gene slumps back down in a pew. Watches as Mr and Mrs Tyler make their way from the church. As he see's the heel of Sam's shoe go over the threshold and disappear, Gene's heart skips a beat.

He's got no sense of time or space, just this acheing, gnawing, ripping feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It's eating away at his insides, making him want to be sick. He can feel the burn of bile rising up his throat.

He clamps down on it and pulls himself together. He's got a speech to make and damn if it isn't gonna be the best, best man's speech anyone's ever heard.

After all, Sam's the best man Gene's ever known.


	2. Shake me break me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam can't work like this anymore

"Sometimes your forward thinkin' attitude astounds me Samantha. You got anymore tricks up yer sleeve, gonna pull a rabbit out yer arse?"

Sam bites his tongue, fights the urge to thump Gene. This is getting ridiculous.

He'd thought they could work past this. Work together as a team, the same way they'd always done. He'd stupidly figured Gene's little outburst as a drunken mistake. Apparently not. Gene's pissed and he ain't afraid to show it.

He's Sam's superior sure, but it's more than that. He's his best friend, his confident, okay so they didn't always see eye to eye but he'd known with unwavering certainty that Gene'd had his back in whatever situation they landed themselves in.

Now, after that night, Sam's not so sure.

It's taken them so bloody long to find their groove, get this well oiled, slightly psychic policing gig going. Why does he keep trying to fuck it up?

He'd been vulnerable, none too sober and about to get married, for God's sake.

It's not like he hasn't dabbled. Man of the noughties and all but this was different. It was Gene, it was his stag night and it wasn't bloody fair and shit, he's been thinking about it constantly ever since.

Sam can't sit within six feet of Gene without his brain kicking into overdrive, where his brain goes his libido takes no time at all to follow.

He finds himself making love to his wife, his wife, imagining bigger hands, rougher skin, green eyes instead of brown. It's beginning to take its toll on his marriage and he doesn't have a damn clue how to stop.

He's having a hard enough time clinging to his facade of normalcy without Gene keep biting at him, baiting him into arguments that always turn physical. They're harsher now too, like Gene's punishing him, he's in the dog house for doing something he thought was best for everyone and it blows, big time.

When the Guv lands a punch these days, not only is he lucky to make it out with all his teeth, but he can feel the emotions boiling away beneath the surface. His actions scream 'Jilted lover' 'Jealous partner' and it's driving Sam insane.

He could understand it if they'd actually been an item but they weren't.

He'd chosen the worst possible time to say anything, try anything. What did he expect Sam to do anyway, leave his fiance at the alter? Say 'Sorry luv but I've decided I'm in love with my DCI. No hard feelings'

He walks into a room now and he can feel Gene's deep green eyes piercing him, passing over and through him. It's like static interference, his brain no longer functions on any level when they're in a room together and it's got to stop. He can't function like this.

Sam can see he's crawled up Gene's arse. Not that it takes much these days.

He's lounging in his chair, feet atop the table, whiskey in hand. His fingers are gripping the glass tight enough to shatter it and his eyes are livid. He's angling for another fight and Sam doesn't think he can cope with the same shit again.

"Stop treating me like a bloody idiot Gene"

"If yer tried listenin' to me for a change then I wouldn't have to talk to yer like you were a brain trust candidate, would I?"

Sam's temper flares, he's sick of having to tiptoe around the older man because he made a decision he thought he could live with, would be best for the pair of them.

"For god sake Gene, grow up. Don't you ever get tired of talking to people like they're under your boot?"

"Honestly, no. You lot, you think you're above it all but you ain't"

Sam understands with perfect clarity that Gene isn't talking about 'everyone' he's talking about him. He wants to get a rise out of him, and it's beginning to wear real fucking thin.

"I've had enough Guv. Can't take it any more, I'm out of here"

Gene straightens and eyes Sam, assessing his seriousness.

"Fine, I'll see you tomorrow"

Sam takes a deep, cleansing breath and goes for broke. It's about time he faced it, they can't work together, they can't even be in the same building without one of them blowing up. Honesty's something he's always prided himself on, it's about time he started being a little honest with himself.

"No Guv, you won't"

"Don't be daft, I'll see you tomorrow"

"That's not what I mean and you bloody well know it"

"What do you mean then Doris?"

The girly name's the final push Sam needs to fall off the ragged edge.

"I mean, you over grown, overbearing pain in my arse, I'm out of here. I'm through, we're through. I mean good bye"

Sam twists, leaning towards the door. Before he can open it, Gene's up and over the desk, scattering papers and empty fag packets everywhere. He slams into the back of Sam, bouncing his face off the shattered pane of glass.

He takes hold of Sam's jacket, puts all his weight on him, pinning him.

Despite the dull throb in his nose, Sam can't help his bodies reaction to Gene's presence. He feels himself hardening and wills his breathing to remain normal. He doesn't need to give Gene any kind of excuse, not right now.

"What the fuck d'ya mean we're through? You really think you're walkin' away from this place?"

He says 'this place' but what Sam hears is 'me' The true hurt behind his words is tugging on Sam's insides, making his stomach flip over and tie itself in knots.

He brings his head back, cracking it into Gene's nose. Gene stumbles and lands awkwardly against his desk, sending whatever'd survived his leap of faith, crashing to the floor.

Sam rubs his nose absentmindedly and swivels on the spot, glaring at Gene.

"You bloody idiot. I've had it, had it up to here with you and your soddin' squad, your silly temper tantrums and your 'I know best' attitude. You can stick it where the sun don't shine 'cos I'm gone. You won't see me for dust"

Gene's completely still, hasn't moved from his painful looking perch against the edge of the desk. His eye's are wild, flicking left and right, searching Sam's face for any hint of humour. When he finds none, they darken, become tinged with anger, bloody minded stubbornness. Under all that though, Sam can see something else taking hold. Fear, big stinky fear.

Gene can see how far he's pushed him and is just now realising that he's quite capable of walking out this room and never coming back, and it petrifies him.

"Tyler, don't"

Sam wipes away a trickle of blood from his nose and asks "Why not? Come on, why not? You keep at me Guv, every chance you get you're there pickpickpicking at me. You've been stamping on me every chance you get for the last two months and I wanna know why!"

"Oh I dunno, maybe 'cos you deserve it. You're just as pigheaded as me Sam, difference is I can admit it"

Sam turns and thumps a fist into the already shattered glass, making the door wobble and the crack widen.

"For God's sake I'm sorry, I'm fucking sorry all right"

Gene finally scooches his arse backwards, sitting fully on the desk.

"And what is it you're sorry for Sammy boy? What are you so fuckin' sorry for!"

"You know, you bloody know..I'm sorry, I'm SORRY. I thought I was doing the right thing, the best thing for everyone. Did you really want me to..Could you have...No, you just dumped this thing on me, screwed my head right up and then...Shit, Gene.."

Gene's staring at him hard, willing him to say it out loud. He can practically taste it, the buzz in the air, the fizz of something big about to go bang. He only needs to say a few words and everything he's been bottling up and hiding behind for months will come crashing down around his ears.

"Come on Sam, be a big lad. What is it that you're sorry for?"

Sam seems to deflate right there in front of Gene's face. All the fight's gone. If they're gonna work past this, get over it, he needs to be the one to swallow his pride and admit what they both know.

"I'm sorry I chose someone else over you"

Gene's expression is unreadable.

He's said it and it feels good, feels bloody good, like a wieght's been lifted. He can breath, for the first time in ages he can actually breath. Now he's opened the gates, he can't seem to stop himself.

"I'm sorry I didn't kiss you back. I'm sorry I married Annie and most of all I'm sorry you didn't fucking say something sooner you arsehole. I'm sodding sorry for ever having met you and I'm sorry I can't seem to turn a corner without you being there, surrounding me, drowning me, suffocating me, making me want you in a way I've never wanted anyone else in my entire fucking life!"

The goldfish impression that Gene's pulling could almost be funny, if Sam hadn't just bared his soul to the one person who can split it in two.

Sam's completely run out of steam, he's stood there, arms hanging limply by his sides, eye's shut, Adams apple bobbing furiously.

"I'm just sorry"

He dares a glance in Gene's direction. What he sees makes his heart sputter and stop. Gene looks so tired, so wrecked, but there's something behind all that. The anger's gone, replaced by sadness. Bone deep unhappiness.

"Gene?"

"Sam I.."

"What, you what?"

"I'm, shit I'm sorry. Christ I just, I couldn't let you..we were, and then you decided to marry that soppy plonk and it felt like, like my insides were being squeezed, like some bastard big beast had it's sharp little claws wrapped round my chest and I couldn't breath. I needed to, had to and then you went ahead and did it anyway. I felt so fucking stupid."

The brutal honesty is heartbreaking.

Gene doesn't do this, this isn't what he was built for. Fighting and fucking and making with the merry, that's the Guv. Not this open, talking about your feelings bollocks.

Sam feels suddenly guilty for having brought Gene down to everyone else's level.

He steps forwards, edges closer, wanting to offer some kind of comfort to a man who doesn't understand the concept.

Gene's still talking, still rambling. Like he's been building up to this for ever and now he's started, nothing's gonna stop him.

"I can't do this anymore either. Can't pretend seein' you two together doesn't rip me in half. You got any idea what it's like, watchin' you, wishin' it was different, wishin' I was the one you rushed home to at night. It ain't natural, it ain't right and I can't fuckin' stop myself. Doesn't matter how many times I go 'ome and shag the missus, it's your face I see, your lips I want to..."

Sam slides the final distance and inserts himself between Gene's knees. Bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, forcing him to look into Sam's eyes. See the same feelings all whirling and swirling around his own brain.

"Kiss me"

Gene tries to pull his face out of Sam's grasp, shakes his head and closes his eyes "No"

"Kiss me, please"

Gene rests his own hand against Sam's, leaning into the embrace.

"Don't Sam. Don't do this. You'll regret it, I'll regret it and I'm not gonna be the one who has to pick up the pieces when you go running back home."

"Gene, kiss me"

"Please, don't make me do this. Don't dangle this in my face if you're just gonna rip it away again. It ain't fair, I shouldn't be goin' to bed at night, imaginin' you lyin' next to me, thinkin' about what you taste and feel like. It's hard enough, don't make me want you, need you, then piss off back to her"

Gene opens his mouth to say something else and Sam leans forwards, slipping his tongue inside, effectively silencing him. When he's sure Gene's gonna stay quiet, he pulls back, looks him in the eyes and says again "Kiss me"

Gene finally caves in, slams his mouth onto Sam's, hungrily devours his lips. He's only human, how many times can he try and be a good man before his will power gives out completely? He's been fantasising about this for years. It's about time he got to experience it for real.

That kiss on Sam's stag night'd only fuelled his ever deepening desire. It might not be natural, but it felt natural.

The kiss is hard and dangerous, it's routed in fear, fear that this'll be the end if they can't work past it and fear that it'll be the beginning if they can.

There's a shift, a change in the air. They're on the verge of something that could destroy them both but neither one can pull away.

Gene's got his legs wrapped around Sam, pinning him in place. Sam's gripping Gene's face, holding him steady. He's stroking Gene's cheek, running his thumb back and fourth across Gene's skin.

It's harsh but it's sweet. It's almost enough to shatter them both.

Oxygen becomes an issue, they pull apart, panting.

Sam rests his forehead against Gene's and takes a moment to steady his shaking nerves. He's done it, finally done it. Shit, he's done it. What's he done? He's put everything on the line for a man that makes him crazy, makes him see spots. He's married, God he's married. Annie, he's married to Annie.

"I can't..Gene I can't"

"Sam, Sam I told you not to do this, you can't just, please you can't.."

Sam struggles in between Gene's legs, thrashes and claws his way free. He doesn't give Gene the chance to argue, just legs it out the office, pelts past desks and piles of papers. Not paying attention to anything but the outer door.

What has he done?

He can hear Gene following, close on his heels. Pushing himself hard enough to try and catch up to the younger, fitter man.

Sam's panicking, he can't breath, can't see straight. He's blindly running, hoping the ground will open up and swallow him whole.

Sam slams his hand flat against the lift button, when it doesn't ping straight away, he shoots through the doors to the stairs. He takes them two at a time, all the while listening to Gene's laboured breathing, practically in his ear.

Gene isn't giving up, not now. Sam can't just offer up something he's been dreaming about for so long and then disappear.

Sam's at the main entrance to the station, fumbling with the lock, praying Phyllis hasn't done her rounds yet.

When it doesn't open he starts kicking and punching the door, desperately trying to escape.

Gene barrels into him from behind, slams his hands down on his shoulders and spins him round so they're facing each other.

He's sweating and fighting for breath, his face is red and his heart is going ninety miles an hour but he doesn't let go, doesn't ease his grip.

He slams his lips against Sam's who struggles for a minute, pushing at his chest, beating his fists against it. Gene just grabs his wrists, wrenching them above his head, preventing further attempts at freedom.

Gene can feel Sam's cock through his clothes, it's pressing against his thigh, taunting him. Telling him the truth.

"Don't pretend you don't want this"

"Gene I can't, please"

Gene rubs his own stiffening cock against Sam's belly, letting him feel how much he wants him. Sam groans and grinds his hips in response. It's an involuntary reaction from his treacherous body.

Gene slides his lips from Sam's and starts lapping at his jugular, laving his throat, sucking on his jumping pulse point.

Sam groans louder and grinds himself harder into Gene's erection.

"Please"

"Please what?"

"Please"

Gene lets Sam's arms drop and reaches behind him, flicking the lock on the doors. Sam almost falls backwards, the only thing keeping him upright is Gene's hand at his waist.

Gene urges him to turn and walk, pushing him in the direction of the rank of police vans lined up in the car park.

Sam stumbles forwards, goes wherever Gene points him. He's past caring, past rational behaviour. He just wants, wants Gene, wants him now.

They manage to find an unlocked van and clamber inside.

Sam sits on one of the benches, staring dazedly at Gene who's shutting the doors behind him. They're plunged into darkness. Sam can't see his hand in front of his face, let alone where his DCI is.

He listens to his own breathing in the dark. It echoes around the back of the van, bounces off the walls and comes back to him loud and distorted.

His skin prickles and he feels a shift in the air.

There's something nudging his knees apart, hands at his fly, pulling it down, baring his acheing cock to cool air.

He's about to say something when he's engulfed in heat. It's a shock to the system, he cries out, arches up off the seat, slams himself to the back of Gene's throat.

He reaches out blindly, searches for something solid to hold onto, keep him anchored. He finds Gene's head, Gene's flowing hair and tangles his fingers in amongst the strands.

Gene's not touching him anywhere but his cock. He's just a disembodied mouth driving Sam off the edge of reality.

He runs his tongue the length of Sam, wrapping it round the tip, curling it so the underside is rasping against him.

The heat is almost unbearable. It's seeping through every poor in his body, every sense, every nerve is connected to his cock and everytime Gene hollows his cheeks and sucks him down, Sam's entire body shakes.

The slightest hint of teeth makes Sam's brain implode, it's a subtle pressure, a tiny bit of pain that rips right through him, sends his mind spinning. He grips Gene's hair harder, pulling, making him grunt. The vibration almost makes him faint.

Gene speeds up, grips the base of his cock with one hand. Pumps it in time with the jerk of his head.

Sam's close, close enough to cry and beg, to offer up all sorts of things just so Gene won't stop.

There's an audible 'pop' in Sam's ears and then he's cumming. Shaking and jerking his hips, emptying himself down Gene's throat and Gene's swallowing it all, every drop. He doesn't stop sucking him until Sam's completely spent and limp in Gene's mouth.

Only then does he let him slip from his lips and crawl up Sam's body. He laps at Sam's lips, letting him taste himself. Sam finally loosens his grip on Gene's hair, slipping his hand round to cup his cheek, bring his face closer.

They stay like that, kissing and touching for what seems like forever and then they remember where they are.

Gene reaches down and tucks Sam away, does him up and turns to the door. When the light from the street lamps filters into the back of the van, Sam can see Gene again, see his flushed face, his lazy smile.

'Cat that got the cream' springs to mind but Sam pushes that rather lude thought away. He finds his feet enough to clamber out behind Gene, shutting the door behind him.

Gene reaches into his pocket, grabs his ciggies and shakes one from the packet. Sam stands there, slightly dazed, slightly confused, feeling relaxed and happy. It's been forever since he felt this easy, this content and it makes him suddenly sad.

Gene offers him a lift home but he shakes his head no. There's worry in Gene's eyes, panic. Sam does the only thing he can to dispel it. Reaches up and kisses him softly, a quick peck but enough to make Gene's shoulders relax and his smile return.

They say their good byes and head in different directions. Gene to the pub, Sam home to his wife.

He walks in, shouts hello and attempts a smile when Annie pokes her head out the kitchen door. When she comes towards him, covered in flour and god knows what else, he finds himself recoiling slightly.

She leans up and kisses him, it's passionate and it's filled with promise but it leaves him cold. She doesn't know it yet, he doesn't even know it yet, but their life together, the thing he thought he'd come back for, is over.

It's just going to take a while for his head to catch up with his heart.


	3. Snippets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mrs was never gonna take kindly to being told her husband's a raving poof.

It shouldn't be funny, really, it's quite horrendous. Gene's gone and left his wife for Christ sake, but Sam's got a grin on his face, regardless.

The way Gene'd told it, she'd been half way out the door before he'd even opened his mouth so it wasn't as if he'd broken her heart. They'd been living separate lives for years. Sam'd seen the evidence. Sam'd been the evidence.

That didn't mean he shouldn't feel some measure of guilt over splitting up a couple that'd been steadily soldiering away for the better part of two decades.

Not only has Gene left his wife, but he's not asked Sam to leave his. Despite his overly possessive nature, Gene's been willing to leave it all behind for the sake of a few hours snatched here and there.

Sam finds some perverse pleasure in getting Gene all to himself, even whilst he knows what a hypocrite that makes him. He's willing to let Gene make all the sacrifices and shoulder none himself. The one time Gene'd brought up Sam leaving Annie, Sam'd shut him down so fast his head had spun.

He wont, can't walk away from a life barely started yet he'd actively encouraged Gene to turn his back on a lifetime of memories. He hates himself for it but he doesn't hate himself enough to make Gene go, force him to try and win her back.

Sam's feeling the weight of decisions he's yet to make but can't bring himself to face the future head on. As far as he's concerned, Gene'll be happy with the little time he can give him and that makes him no better than the cheating scum they lock up on a daily basis.

What's making him smile, despite the shitty circumstances, is Gene's just come barrelling into his office holding a black bin liner full of clothes. That'd be fine, dandy in fact, he has after all just left his family home. No, the problem is, the clothes, they don't so much resemble clothes anymore as they do rags.

Gene's wife might not've been too upset at the prospect of a life alone, what she'd apparently objected to was Gene's brutal honesty as to why he'd decided to pack his bags.

Sam shakes his head and wonders exactly why Gene'd chosen to be that honest at that particular time when the rest of the year round, he's quite happy being as economical with the facts as possible.

Really it's his own fault.

Gene's got a look on his face that clearly says 'back off' but Sam ignores it and begins to rifle through the hodgepodge of garments now covering the office floor.

Sam picks out the green shirt, the silk one that brings out Gene's eyes, and can't stop the laugh that spills from his lips.

"Shit, Gene"

"S'not funny"

"Is kinda"

"No it ain't"

Where once there used to be arms, now there are none. Sam's having to hold the shirt by it's collar because there's nothing else left for his fingers to grab on to.

Sam methodically and diligently picks through every item in front of him, pausing only when he comes to a pair of jeans he'd always thought made the Guv's arse look particularly appealing. He stands, bringing the trousers with him, holds them against his legs and chuckles.

"Oh dear, she really wasn't happy was she?"

"Told you, t'ain't funny Sam. Bitch 'as gone through every piece of clothin' I own and taken chunks out of 'em with a pair of soddin' scissors"

Peering down at the trousers in his hands, Sam sees a hole where the crotch should be and laughs out loud. It's the same story with everything on the floor. Shirts, jumpers and T-shirts with no arms. Trousers with no material in the crotch and one sports jacket that looks like Jack the ripper's been having a good old go.

She hasn't stopped there either. There's a sorry pile of pants in one corner that have no cloth in the arse. If Gene were to put them on, they'd leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. Perhaps that was Mrs Hunt's little dig at his chosen lifestyle. Sam's not sure but he has no clue as to why she's chopped the toes off of every one of his socks.

This means, not only does Gene have nothing except the clothes he's stood up in, but Sam'll have to help him shop for a whole new wardrobe. Perhaps the woman wasn't just trying on mindless vengeance. She's got to know exactly what a prick Gene is when it comes to shopping, of any kind.

Finally, after picking through and finding nothing salvageable, Sam stands again and looks at Gene. He's too preoccupied by his missus's handiwork to worry about anything else at the moment, but Sam knows, the clock's ticking.

It'll take no time at all for Gene to start questioning Sam's ability to keep him hanging on a shoe string whilst still living a life with Annie. Perhaps Mrs Hunt's done him a favour.

Sam sighs, lays a hand on Gene's arm and steps into his body.

"M'sorry Gene"

"S'not your fault, I'm the twat who couldn't keep his gob shut. S'not all bad, least I was wearin' me coat"


	4. Shadows and dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Sam thought about it, there really was no decision

Sam feels himself tighten, every muscle, every nerve, every neuron. He tightens and then 'snaps', releasing all his pent up frustration and energy. He blacks out for a second and comes too with Gene's concerned face swimming in and out of focus.

He's missed Gene coming undone at the seams, too busy passing out from his own orgasm. From the looks of things, Gene enjoyed himself well enough. His face is a flushed, sweaty mess with tendrils of blonde hair sticking to his forehead.

Sam embraces the urge to touch and sweeps a few of Gene's unruly locks behind his ear.

Gene's breathing is returning to normal and he's beginning to flag. Letting his arms slide sideways, Gene collapses onto Sam's chest.

Sam's automatic reaction is to bring a hand up and cup the back of Gene's head. Making sure he doesn't slip off, slip away.

Neither one feels the need to talk. They've become quite accustomed to laying in silence, enjoying the aftermath of their 'love making'. Love making? where did that come from? If someone'd said 6 years ago that he'd be squashed beneath Gene Hunt feeling sated and completely content, he'd have laughed in their face. Now it's less of a joke more of a way of life.

It's a bit like breathing, it's something you do without really realising you're doing it. Integral to your health yet easily forgotten. If you stopped, you'd die. That's how Sam feels about this thing he and Gene have created.

It's at times like these, lying with Gene, satisfied and happy, that Sam forgets he's got a wife, a home, a life outside their little self contained bubble.

It's when he's pulling his clothes back on, readying himself for the return journey, skulking away into the shadows, that's when the guilt sets in.

Funny thing, guilt.

To start with it was guilt for having done this to Annie, for having betrayed her in this way. When he'd gone home, seen her smiling face, taken on the role of 'husband', he'd felt so guilty he'd almost called it all off with Gene. Almost but not quite.

Then, as time moved on, he'd felt guilty for having to leave Gene in his grotty little flat, alone. Blue eyes had bored into his back, turning his skin ice cold. He'd felt like..like she was the affair and Gene was the relationship and he was cheating on him with her. Ridiculous.

Ridiculous but painful.

Nights spent at home were nights spent with one ear constantly tuned to the telephone, hoping he'd get a shout and he'd have to pull on his shoes and coat and go off for another adventure.

How evil did one have to be, to wish harm on other human beings, just so you'd get to spend a few precious hours with the person you were steadily falling head over heals in love with? There'd probably be a special place in hell reserved for people like him.

When the call inevitably came, he'd throw himself at the phone, listen, breath held, as Gene hollered down the line that he was needed and to 'get his arse in gear'. He never saw the look of hurt flash across Annie's features. Didn't hear the heart breaking sobs as he practically flew out the door.

All that mattered to him was the chance to spend some time with Gene. Even if they couldn't touch, couldn't really talk, he could still breath the same air, be in the same place. He was addicted and like a junkie, he couldn't see those around him and their pain, just his need for gratification.

If he'd bothered to look, really look, the guilt over Annie would have completely drowned him.

Funny thing, guilt.

Once, she'd actually asked him to stay. To tell the Guv he couldn't go, was staying in with her. The panicked look in his eyes had been enough of an answer for her to shake her head and mutter 'never mind' then turn away and slip from the room. Shoulders already shaking with the effort not to cry, not to humiliate herself in front of him.

His gut had turned in on itself, his heart had raced, he'd been so overwhelmed with guilt and pity. Still he'd grabbed his keys and legged it out the door. Pausing only briefly to look back at the house. Then he'd thrown himself in the Guv's car and thought nothing more of it.

Special place in hell.

Gene's weight eventually becomes too much and he squirms and shifts his way out from underneath him. Lying on his side, he curls one arm over Gene's shoulders and studies him, watches him fight for consciousness. Gene's a proper man, always has been, always will be. The deed is done and he can't help rolling over and falling asleep.

It's the same every time. Gene, half asleep, will beg Sam not to go, Sam will pull his arm away and redress, all the while praying Gene'll give in and fall asleep before he leaves, just so he doesn't have to see the hurt look, the abandoned expression take up residence on his usually gruff and unforgiving face.

Tonight is no different. Sam, ever aware of the time, gets up and begins to search out his clothes. Finding his briefs behind the chest of drawers, he pulls them on and refuses to look up, look into Gene's expressive eyes.

Gene's suddenly awake, really awake. He's propped up on one arm, glaring at Sam. Sam can feel the unrepressed rage coming off him in waves.

It's gonna to be one of 'those' nights.

One of those nights where Gene accuses him of being a coward, of being afraid of his own shadow.

It's gonna to be one of those nights where Sam will storm out, making sure to slam the door especially hard. He'll get home, make nice with Annie and then, before he finally crawls into his own bed, he'll have to ring Gene, tell him he's sorry and he doesn't mean it and beg him please, just a little longer.

One of those nights where he hates himself and everything about his situation. Feels powerless to stop himself lying to both the people in his life. One, he tells he loves beyond reason, just so she'll stop staring at him with dead, accusing eyes. The other, he tells he just needs a little more time, he'll do it soon, he promises.

He's even lying to himself. He tells himself he'll be able to stop this thing with Gene, walk away. He's not in too deep, no, never.

It takes a special kind of person to do the things he's doing.

It's gonna be one of those nights where he wishes the ground would just open up and swallow him.

"Don't look at me like that Gene, you know I've gotta go"

"Like what Sammy boy? I'm not lookin' at you like anythin'"

Sam grinds his teeth and continues dressing, trying desperately to ignore the sensation of someone walking over his grave.

"Gene, please"

"What Sam, what the hell you askin' me 'please' for?"

"Please stop making this so god damned hard"

"It's not me makin' it that way. I'm not the one carryin' on a double life, not the one kiddin' himself he'll be able to keep this up forever"

"Just, don't. All right, just don't. We've been through this. I can't"

"Why not? Why the fuck not?"

"Because, Gene, I just...can't"

"S'all right fer you. You ain't the one left on yer own at the end of the night, not the one left to contemplate yer naval while I trot off home to the missus and pretend everything's hunky dorey"

Sam's heart's beating so hard he fears it might beat right out his chest. He doesn't want another fight, another argument. Another something to feel guilty about.

"Please"

"No, damn it I've 'ad enough of sittin' on my arse watchin' you pretend you don't care, you don't know how this is makin' me crazy. You ain't 'appy there. You ain't never gonna be 'appy. The night you let me suck your cock was the night your marriage ended, you just don't 'ave the balls to face up to it"

Gene's sitting up now, sheet draped across one knee, tantalizing flash of thigh distracting Sam. God he's obsessed. Here Gene is, ripping into him and all he can think of is that little flash of flesh. Hopeless.

"Don't you dare, don't you bloody dare. I did not ask for this. Did not ask to be feeling like this. If I could walk away from you, I would. Do you get that, I'd be gone if only I had the guts to do it. You twist me up in knots Gene. You make it impossible for me to think straight. I'm married for fucks sake"

Gene's eyes harden and he stands, completely naked, hands on hips. He gets right in Sam's face, close enough to share oxygen.

"Fine. Walk, I couldn't give a shit. Just remember, you keep comin' back. You've been married for six years Sam, we've been shaggin for five and a half of those. It's about time you faced up to the fact that you ain't goin' no where"

Sam's nostrils flare and he pushes his own face as close as possible to Gene's, coming as close to eye level as he's ever going to get with the six inch taller man.

"Don't push me. You aren't so special, you can't make me do something I don't wanna do. Why can't you just leave it as it is?"

"Because you aren't 'appy! Neither one of us is ever gonna be 'appy unless you pull yer head out yer arse and admit that you and Cartwright are through. Please Sam. I'm not gonna wait around forever. Don't make me finish it. Don't make me break my own heart just 'cos it'd be preferable to you doin' it everytime you walk outta that door"

Sam's eyes widen and his breathing falters. Gene's deadly serious, There's no hint of a joke, no sign of him backing down. His eyes are blazing and his face is as serious as Sam's ever seen it. If he doesn't make a decision, Gene'll make it for him.

Panic sets in, his palms become greasy and his vision blurs. No, he can't lose this, lose him. Not after everything. Not after it took him so long to admit it in the first place. But, Annie, what about Annie, he can't do this to her, can't walk through their door and just drop this on her. Although, if he thinks on it, he knows that Annie isn't stupid. She's known something was up for a while.

Coward, he's a coward.

Shaking and stumbling, Sam grabs for Gene. Gene steps back, steps away and shakes his head. He isn't gonna back down, not now. He's come too far to let Sam walk all over him, again.

Gene sits back on the bed and stares at Sam, never letting his eyes drop. Sam eventually pulls his gaze away and finishes getting dressed. He steps towards the door, slow and unsteady. He turns pleading eyes on Gene who just raises a hand and gestures for Sam to go on.

"Please"

"Good bye Sam"

"Please"

"Good bye Sam"

And Sam's gone.

He walks the half mile back to his house in a daze, swinging from one decision to another. He's going to tell her, he's not going to tell her. He'll ring Gene, he'll go back and talk to Gene.

Eventually his front step looms. The door is mocking him, he can hear it telling him how much of a useless, pathetic coward he really is.

Finally he slots his key in the lock and enters. It's the same as it was this morning except it's not. Everything's changed.

He takes one look at his matching curtains and sofa covers and runs to the phone.

"'lo"

"Come get me. One hour"

"Thank you"

Sam hangs up and for the first time in a long, long time, he doesn't feel guilty.

Funny thing, guilt.


	5. Love hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally she knows.

"Admit it!" Annie's eyes have gone a deep shade of rage. She's got her hands balled into fists and Sam thinks she might actually punch him if he isn't careful.

"Annie, come on luv, be reasonable"

"I am, Sam. For the first time in a very long time I'm being as reasonable as possible"

Sam knows his goose is cooked, he also knows that this will be the last fight they have. Annie isn't stupid. Annie is far from stupid in fact and he doesn't know how they've gotten away with it for so long.

"Just bloody admit it Sam. Tell me, tell me how you wait until I'm asleep and sneak off over to him. Tell me about all those times we were s'posed to be havin' a nice cosy evenin' only for him to ring and you'd be out of here so fast your feet wouldn't touch"

Sam hangs his head and tries to think of something to say that'll ease the hurt in Annie's eyes. He's got nothing, he's always got nothing and he's about to have even more of a nothing. He's a cad, a heel and a dog and right now, despite the pain in her voice, Sam is relieved.

He's relieved to have it all out in the open, because all the sneaking around was starting to take it's toll. Despite the many times they'd tried to stop, tried to keep a lid on it, they'd failed. Horribly.

Heavy hands grappling for flesh in darkened corners of every place they went. Sly conversations and hushed promises of sexual deviancy that would've had everyone around them blushing from ear to ear.

It wasn't just sex though, not that, that wasn't fucking brilliant. It was starting to feel like Annie was the affair and he was the relationship. Every night he had to go home to her, Sam would feel a sense of guilt like he'd never felt before.

He knew exactly what he was doing too, every time Sam had to hastily throw his clothes back on and leave, he'd make Sam feel like a piece of shit for abandoning him. For going home to her. Sam doesn't know when he started to really fall for him, but once he'd started on that slippery slope, he couldn't stop.

Annie is still panting for breath, fighting against the urge to really batter Sam. She'd hoped calling him on it would knock some sense into him, make him see what he'd been doing, but no. What she sees is Sam finally realising what she's known for a long time. He doesn't love her, never really did, not in the way she'd hoped. It was always about him, about Gene.

She lets the anger wash over her, revelling in feeling something other than gut wrenching hurt for once. Spinning on her heel and heading for the living room, she hears Sam follow. Good.

She starts ripping photos off the walls, throwing them at Sam "This time, my birthday, how long did you stay before he dragged you away for some seedy little encounter?"

Sam ducks but doesn't get out the way fast enough, getting caught with the corner of a photo frame.

"What about this time Sam, was this one of those rare occasions you were mine or did you bugger off with him when I wasn't looking?"

He's getting pummelled by every picture and knick knack she can lay her hands on. He's covered in cuts and scrapes and she's not letting up any time soon. Sam know's he deserves it, so he only halfheartedly tries to shift out the firing line, just letting her scream herself out.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry"

"Sorry isn't fucking good enough. You know what? Even after all this, even after everything you two have put me through I still love you, you piece of shit"

Eventually her shouts and accusations subside. She doesn't really want to know, after all. Just needed to say it all out loud.

Sam collects his things, the few he wants to take with him. His coat, his badge and their wedding photo.

Annie's sat on their sofa, crying and babbling. He tries to get her to look at him, tries to get her to focus on him. "Annie, I'm..I'm gonna..I've got to.."

She looks up, tear tracks visible on her pale cheeks "You're going to him aren't you? You're bloody well going straight to him. Fine. Fuck off, don't bother coming back"

He gives her one last look and heads for the door. She hears his final words to her as the door bangs shut "I'm sorry, I couldn't stop"

He stumbles down his front steps, wiping at the tiny scratches made by flying ornaments, not looking where he's going.

The familiar sound of a car engine rumbles to a stop in front of him. He looks up and Gene has already pushed the passenger side door open. He climbs in without a word.

Gene rev's the engine but doesn't put the car in drive. Instead he looks Sam over, taking in the cuts and bruises and the look of utter defeat on his face. His heart goes out to him, but he's not nice enough to tell him to get out and go and sort it out with her.

Instead he leans across Sam and slams the door shut. Revving the engine again, he pulls away.

Slipping his hand from the gear stick, tangling his fingers with Sam's, he squeezes once, then rests their joined hands on his leg.

Sam squeezes back and finally looks at Gene, tears threatening.

Gene flicks his eyes from the road and stares at Sam.

"I'm sorry, I really am"

"Yea, so am I"


	6. Dreamers never lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gene's a coward...and now Sam knows.

Gene'd never had papers thrown at him before, not by anyone. No one, not even Gladys the almighty got away with that. Just as he was about to chase after him and give him a leathering, Gene thought he'd actually see what Sam'd chucked at him.

He picked up one of the crumpled pieces of carbon copy. Shit. They were Sam's promotion papers. Shit. He'd asked the Super not to say anything, not until he'd told the squad, not until he'd told his DI.

Attached to one of the papers was a copy of Gene's own transfer form.

Shit.

Sliding back into his seat, Gene yanked open his desk draw, rifled around and pulled out a bottle of Grants. Locating a glass, he poured himself a healthy measure and gulped it down in one. Pouring another, he allowed himself to breath and leant his forehead against the cool glass.

Double friggin' shit.

He hadn't even hinted. He hadn't thought he'd have to worry about it for a while. He'd forgotten that the Super'd wanted to get Sam's approval to the promotion before he announced it to the press and the station.

Sucking it up, gathering himself together, Gene got up and went to find Sam. He stuck his head out into the squad room. There was no one there. The place was deserted. Checking his watch, he saw it was well past beer-o-clock. The rest of the lads would be down the pub.

Sam must've gone home. He couldn't see him going to the pub in the mood he was in. Ray'd only have to twitch his 'tache in Sam's direction and he'd end up with a black eye. Actually, on second consideration, that was probably where Sam would go, if he was spoiling for a fight and wanted someone to pick it with.

Grabbing his coat from the stand next to his desk, Gene hurriedly threw it on and legged it out the building. Last thing Sam needed was a punch up on his record, not with impending DCI-hood on the cards.

That was a laugh, like he had any room to talk. He'd got into a fight the day he'd been given the go ahead to take over CID. Too much alcohol, too much enthusiasm, not enough brain cells. Hopefully his DI had more nouse than he did.

*************

Wandering through the Railway Arm's door, scanning the pub for Sam, Gene spotted him in the corner. On his own, nursing a whackin' great glass of scotch. Great, Sam sober was a pain in the arse, Sam pissed was twice as bloody bad.

Not that he could really blame him. He hadn't even mentioned it. They were s'posed to be movin' in together in three weeks. In two, he'd be in London, takin' over one of their divisions, with Ray and Chris in tow.

Not that Ray or Chris knew anymore about it than Sam did. He hadn't told them yet either. Somehow he figured that conversation would be much easier than this one.

Moving like he was sneaking up on a suspect, Gene tiptoed over to Sam, trying not to startle him. The mood he looked to be in, startling him could cost Gene an eye or a testicle.

"Sam?"

"Piss off"

Right, softly softly wasn't gonna work. Maybe a good slap would do the trick. No perhaps not. After all, he was the twat welshing out on Sam, not the other way around. He tried again.

"Sam!"

"I said, piss off. You deaf?"

Gene motioned for a drink off Nelson and then settled himself on the barstool next to Sam. Counting the silence in seconds, Gene gave Sam the chance to get up and walk away. When he didn't he tried yet again to get some kind of non abusive response out of him.

"Look, Sammy I..."

"Don't"

"Don't what?"

"It's Detective Inspector Tyler, to you"

"Sam please"

"You just negated all rights to plead me for anything, DCI Hunt"

With that he downed his drink and headed towards the door. He hadn't quite made it there when Ray spotted him. He'd been playing darts in the corner with some of the other lads. When he saw the look on his DI's face, he couldn't help the dig.

"Oh, what's up boss? Got ya pink panties in a twist 'bout something 'ave you?"

Sam stopped, hand on the door frame. Any other day he'd have been able to let it slide, let the little scroat's jibe slip right over his head. Not today.

He pulled back, raised his hands and motioned Ray towards him.

Ray swaggered confidently towards him. Sure that Tyler wouldn't have the balls to do anything about his little joke.

He got within inches of Sam and smirked "What?"

Gene got up off his stool and put a hand on Sam's shoulder "Don't Sam. Leave it"

Sam shrugged him off violently and sneered at him "You also just lost all right to tell me what the hell to do, now fuck off and leave me alone"

Gene pulled his hand back and raised his arms in surrender, knowing it'd do no good trying to talk him out of what he was about to do. Sam needed someone to pummel, Ray was as good a target as any.

Sam didn't even think, just reacted. He lashed out, thumping Ray in the nose, spreading it across his face.

Ray stumbled backwards, knocking a chair over. It took him a second but he came back with an elbow to the face.

Sam ducked but Ray's bony arm caught him on the chin, jarring his teeth. Raising an eyebrow and the sweaty oaf, Sam lifted a hand and beckoned him on. Pulling the same move as when he'd fought with Gene in that hospital room, all those years ago.

Ray did as predicted and lunged for Sam, arms outstretched.

Sam dodged the move easily, years of fighting the tougher, faster DCI had gotten him into good shape. Sam jumped a little and kicked Ray in the back as he passed. Sending him skidding face first into another chair.

Ray went to pull himself up when Gene's heavy tones broke the silence "Stay down Carling"

Sneering at Sam and wiping his face with an already bloodied hand, Ray just nodded and slumped against the upturned chair.

Gene hooked a hand into Sam's collar and bodily dragged him from the pub on his tiptoes. Being taller certainly had it's advantages.

*********

Sam felt himself smack into a wall. His head snapped back and he could see nothing but spots for a second. Gene didn't give him chance to retaliate, just pinned him with his entire body weight.

"Get off me"

"No. You're gonna listen"

"No, I don't think I am"

"Yes, you bloody well are Sam"

"No, sir, I'm not. I stopped caring what you had to say about 2 hours ago"

"You're angry, so I'll let that slide, but be warned, I'm not about to take shite from you Tyler"

"Oh, now it's Tyler, is it? This morning it was 'Oh fuck Sam, sammm' but now your little secret's out, it's back to Tyler"

Gene gripped Sam's face, stopping him from turning away.

"I didn't know what to say. I...what was I...It's too much. They offered me a promotion Sam. Would you have passed it up?"

Sam closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Gene swimming in and out of focus.

"I don't know but I certainly would have told the bloke I was screwing that I was leaving for London in a fortnight. I certainly would have told the man I was s'posed to be moving in with that I was leaving him"

Gene let his hands drop. Stepped away from Sam and sighed. How could he tell him, how could he tell the man he thought he might be falling in l...that he was sleeping with, that he was leaving him. Especially seen as that man had left everything for him. Lost everything for him.

A broken sob filled Gene's ears and his own heart thudded once in his chest. Reaching forwards, he tried to offer some kind of comfort to Sam.

Sam batted his hands away and legged it, took off out of sight.

Gene let him. Knowing it'd do no good to follow. Not tonight. He didn't have an explanation to give him, not one that'd satisfy him. Not an honest one.

*****************

Sam'd spent the last two weeks avoiding Gene. Every shout, every call out, he'd ridden with someone else, they'd not managed to be alone in a room together for 14 days and Sam had reinforced his flat door with a dead bolt and three more locks to prevent Gene from bursting through it uninvited.

Gene figured it was probably for the best. He'd be leaving in a day anyway. He needed to get used to not having Tyler around. Except it hurt like a son of a bitch. He missed him, missed his snarky comments, his picky pain ways.

Most of all, he missed having someone to curl up with at the end of the night. Still, all for the best.

It was midnight, officially his last day in Manchester, his last day leading the team he'd spent so many years building from the ground up. He was sat in his, soon to be Sam's office, nursing a large glass of cheap plonk and contemplating the nature of the universe when the phone rang.

He stared at it for a moment, wondering if it was the alcohol making him think it was ringing. When he was sure it was actually trilling at him, he picked it up.

"'lo"

"Gene?"

Gene's breath caught in his throat.

"Sam?"

"Yea, can you...come over, please"

"You gonna let me in this time?"

"Just, come"

Gene dropped the receiver back into it's cradle, stared at it for another moment and then grabbed his keys and his coat.

***********

Sam opened the door, stepped back and let Gene in. There were two glasses of whiskey waiting for him on the table. Snatching one up, gulping it down, savouring the burn, Gene turned to face Sam.

"So, what d'ya want?"

"Answers"

"I told ya, I got offered a promot.."

"Don't bloody lie to me. I know you, you love this city, you love this squad. You wouldn't accept a promotion. So, why?"

"I..I don't have any answers for ya"

"That isn't good enough Gene"

Gene couldn't look Sam in the face, couldn't bring himself to witness the fresh hurt taking root behind his eyes. Instead he grabbed for the second glass, concentrated on the way the amber liquid caught the light.

"You're taking Ray and Chris"

It wasn't a question but the question behind it was clear. Why hadn't he picked him? Why hadn't he put his name forward?

"They said I could bring two men. Didn't think you'd wanna up sticks and shift to London"

It was a blatant lie, they both knew it. Gene knew Sam would have followed him anywhere. That was the problem.

Sam came towards Gene, stood up on tiptoes and looked him straight in the eye.

"Why won't you let me be with you?"

"Because Sam, just because"

"But..."

"No, I'm tellin' you no. Don't follow me, don't phone me, don't write to me"

Gene could see, actually see Sam's heart shattering. He kicked himself, hated himself, but he knew it was for the best. Sam'd get over it, find himself some nice little plonk to settle down with and forget all about the overbearing DCI.

He fought hard not to remember that Sam'd already done that. Already found himself some nice little plonk, already settled down; house and garden, somewhere to hang his hat, seed his dreams. Gene'd ruined all that. Pushed, pushed and aggravated, picked away until Sam'd admitted who he really wanted to be with.

Now he was leaving him, after everything he'd given up, but Gene still thought it was for the best.

"Why? Why are you bloody running away from this Gene?"

"I can't, Sammy I just..this is wrong. We can't, I can't.."

Gene looked wrecked, even Sam had to admit that. The deep circles under his eyes, the lines on his face all seemed harsher some how.

"Yes you can. Yes we can. We have, for crying out loud. What's the difference? Twelve months ago you were dry humping me into every available surface, now you can't stand to look at me. What changed?"

Sam desperately wanted Gene to turn round and kiss him in a fit of, what? Anger, rage, anything. Instead he just avoided eye contact and clenched his fists.

"What changed? What fuckin' changed! You left your wife Sam. You left your wife an' your home an' you followed me. You dogged me 'til I couldn't bloody think straight"

Sam's shocked expression made Gene crazy, made Gene want to thump him 'til his head fell off. He was trying to make a new life for himself, in turn making a new one for Sam.

"Don't you bloody dare. Don't you dare make this all about me. If I remember rightly, you were the one who started everything. You gave me a mind altering blow job in the back of one of the police vans. You started this, now you want to run away before you finish it"

Gene scrubbed a hand over his face "Moment of madness"

"Seven bloody years is not a moment of madness. It's cause for you to be sectioned"

Gene lost it then, lunging at Sam, hands forming fists before his brain had time to catch up. It'd been so long since they'd fought like this. Like they had something to really fight about.

Gene's knuckles connected with Sam's cheek before Sam had time to duck. His head snapped sideways, letting lose a mouthful of bloodied spit.

Gene stared at the offending fist, like it was someone else's.

Sam didn't stay still for long, swinging his arms with no coordination or rhythm, he launched himself at Gene. Grabbing fistfuls of hair and yanking, kicking anywhere he could reach. Letting go of all the pain and bitterness that'd been building for the last fortnight.

Gene's reaction was in built, something born of a childhood with a hand heavy father and years spent policing Manchester's streets. He tucked his head into his body and barrelled forwards, taking Sam off his feet and thumping him into the nearest wall.

He heard Sam's head crack against the dry wall. Saw him crumple and his automatic response was to go to him, pick him up and put him back on his feet. Instead he clamped down on it and turned away. Fleeing before he undid everything he'd been working for this past fortnight.

The last thing he saw was Sam, broken and bleeding, beating his fists against his floor, fighting back harsh, gut wrenching sobs.


	7. Stand and deliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gene runs away...is it far enough?

Gene's been gone a month and Sam's had to forcibly yoink himself away from the phone a total of 60 times.

He'd promised the Guv he wouldn't do it, wouldn't contact him in his 'new' life. A little bit of Sam hates him for it. The rest is just so broken he doesn't know which way is up anymore.

He's got a squad to run, he's got Gene's squad to run. His ego and sense of loyalty won't let him run it into the ground even if he thinks it might ease the need for childish spite.

Sam can't believe he ran away. Gene Hunt, sheriff of Manchester ran away. It just doesn't sit right with him. Gene hasn't run away from anything in his life.

He stuck it out through the divorce, he dug his heels in a refused to leave even when Sam'd begged him to go. So why'd he scarper now?

Sam won't allow himself to think on it too long, if he does his heart might implode. He feels abandoned, he feels betrayed but most of all he feels alone.

The city feels empty without the Guv. Like someone's come along and bulldozed a bloody great hole right through the centre of it.

The one person he'd have turned to for help with this, is gone. He managed to fuck that up as well. Annie, poor bloody Annie. She didn't sign on for this. She thought she was getting happy ever afters, kids and a white picket fence.

Instead she ended up with a soppy twat and his Mancunian lover pulling her world to pieces with their bare hands.

New life..New fucking life! What about his life? What about the pieces he's got to put back together now Gene's legged it with two of his squad and all of his soul.

Sam pulls his gaze from the phone, instead focusing on the bastard big bottle of scotch sitting untouched on his sideboard.

He can't believe he's back in this shitty little flat, either. Of all the places to have to end up, Jesus. Bad week? Bad year? Bad fucking decade, more like.

Sam reaches out, grasping his salvation and pours the largest glass of hooch he's ever seen. He keeps pouring until it's bubbling over the edge of the glass, leaving murky little wet patches on his sideboard.

He lays his chin on his folded arms, watches the dark spots seep into the surface and imagines being one of them. Wishes he could just melt away to nothing.

*********************

Okay, so alcohol on top of a broken heart, not such a great idea.

Sam can barely stand, barely focus, let alone function.

He thinks he may have hit his head at some point because he can see tiny little dancing imps, goading and taunting him.

They're whipping round his head at an impossible rate, flinging their arms out wide and chanting ringhimringhimringhimringhim.

So, against his better judgement, not that he's entirely sure what that is anymore, he lunges for the phone.

He misses on his first try, landing flat on his face, nose squashed flat against his threadbare carpet.

Upon further reflection he thinks it might have been a good idea to actually walk to the phone, rather than attempt to take flight from his seat at the table.

Second try, he manages to hook his fingers in the cord, yanking the phone down on his head, bumping his already aching nose back into the floor.

After the multi-coloured flashes have faded from behind his eyelids, he shuffles forward on his knees and lifts the receiver.

He dials the number. He knows it by heart. He got one of the team to do some digging and they came up trumps, for a change.

He's dialled every number but the last, every day, twice a day for the last 30 days. The number 7 has never looked so scary before.

Tonight he thinks he might actually have the bottle to finish what he starts.

Hearing the deep thrum of the dial tone, Sam punches each number quickly, afraid his fingers might seize up.

"'ello"

Click

Stupid...stupidstupidstupidstupid.

He tries again, this time gripping the leg of the bed in one hand, searching for some kind of support.

"'ello"

Silence. Sam's throat seems to have closed up.

"Who is this?"

"Guv?"

Click

Sam stares at the receiver as if it will offer him answers. He hung up, how fucking dare he hang up. Then again, what did he expect?

"Why? Why are you bloody running away from this Gene?" Sam'd been asking the same question all night. He'd varied the delivery, the volume at which it was asked, even tried tricking Gene into giving him an answer. Still those blue eyes had refused to focus on him.

"I can't, Sammy I just..this is wrong. We can't, I can't.." Gene looked wrecked, even Sam had to admit that. The deep circles under his eyes, the lines on his face all seemed harsher some how.

"Yes you can. Yes we can. We have, for crying out loud. What's the difference? Twelve months ago you were dry humping me into every available surface, now you can't stand to look at me. What changed?"

"What changed? What fuckin' changed! You left your wife Sam. You left your wife an' your home an' you followed me. You dogged me 'til I couldn't bloody think straight"

"Don't you bloody dare. Don't you dare make this all about me. If I remember rightly, you were the one who started everything. You gave me a mind altering blow job in the back of one of the police vans. You started this, now you want to run away before you finish it"

Gene scrubbed a hand over his face "Moment of madness"

"Seven bloody years is not a moment of madness. It's cause for you to be sectioned"

He'd tried everything to get Gene to stay, every trick in the book. He'd refused to beg though. Wouldn't lower himself if Gene wasn't willing to listen.

They'd fought and Gene'd stormed out, leaving Sam bleeding and beating his fists against his floor, fighting back harsh, hot tears.

He'd not seen him since.

Sam didn't go to Gene's leaving do, couldn't face sitting there and playing nice. Pretending everything was hunky-dorey and that he was pleased for his boss.

Setting his jaw and tapping the number in again, Sam braces himself for what has to be done.

"What?"

"Guv, Gene. Don't hang up"

"Tyler, I told you, I asked you, don't contact me. I can't do this"

"Please"

"Shit Sam. This isn't fair"

"Because fair is me sittin' here feeling like day old dog shit, is it? Fair is me drinkin' myself stupid just to get through the day? Is it fair that I can't bloody think straight and it's all your fault? Is it?"

"Don't call again"

Click

************************

Gene sits staring at his phone, glaring at it, as if it might crack under interrogation.

He'd told him not to call, he'd told him not to write, he'd told him not to set foot in his new city because he'd be forced to brake it off. Why couldn't the stupid little scroat listen, just for once? What was so difficult?

The walls feel like they're closing in, his vision blurs and he has to stick his head between his knees. He's panicking. Just hearing Sam's voice sets his heart beating a million miles an hour.

He'd thought he'd left all that behind. Truthfully, he can still feel Sam's lithe body beneath his own, see his face when he came, hear the whimpers and groans.

Those images and sensations fade to be replaced by others.

Sam and him fighting like rabid dogs, kicking seven shades of shit out of each other. Him fleeing, leaving a broken and bleeding Tyler behind.

Gene shakes his head, tries to rid himself of the memories. He thought he'd left that all behind.

This new job, these new people, they don't get him. Not like his team had, not like Sam had.

He may have been a poncy, man united supporting, poof but he was Gene's poncy, man united supporting, poof and it's gradually eating him up inside.

He'd figured he could handle it. Figured he could do without the other man. After all he'd survived forty odd years without Sam Bloody Tyler, surely he could survive a move to a different city.

Maybe that was the problem, he was so close yet so far away. All Sam has to do is hop in a car and drive. He's like a terrier with a rat and Gene's been turning corners for the last month, expecting Sam to be the other side of them.

The fact Gene knows exactly how stubborn Sam can be means that when he never showed, Gene was disappointed, and if he was honest, a little hurt. Which was fuckin' insane because he'd told his DI not to follow him.

Hauling himself off his arse, going in search of more booze, Gene tries to clamp down on his feelings. Block them out somehow.

He's rummaging around, looking for a glass when the phone rings again.

He freezes, hand halfway to opening a cupboard. He stares at the offending piece of technology. It has to be Sam again, he's got a niggling feeling that now the other man's gotten the bollocks to ring, he won't stop.

Gene shakes himself and turns away, focusing on the cupboard in front of him. Counting the cracks and nicks in the wood, paying particular attention to the lifting varnish. Fighting the urge to pick up the handset.

He hears his answer machine kick in. A click and then the sound of his own voice reaches his ears.

'How'd you work this soddin' thing. Bollocks, right leave a message if yer want to, or not I couldn't really give a shi...' beeep.

Gene chuckles to himself, he really has to change that message.

"Guv...Gene? You there? 'Kay, fine I'll talk to this bloody thing then...Come on, pick up I know you're there"

Gene rolls his eyes and bites his lip. His fingers are itching to pick up the phone but he holds firm. Sam's a DCI now, why'd he keep calling him Guv? Force of habit probably. Sam would always be his DI, perhaps the younger man can't see Gene as anything other than his Guv.

"Gene, please, come home. I know we, you..shit why's this so hard? I promised myself Guv. Promised I wouldn't do this, wouldn't beg but...You left, you arsehole you left us. Me! If you couldn't hack it why'd you start it, you knew I'd get hooked, you know me, so why'd you offer me a way out and then leg it yours..."Beeep.

Gene's shaking. His entire body is twitching and his vision's gone fuzzy again. He's leaning against the cupboard, forehead flat against the wood, sucking in air, gulping it down.

A minute ticks by and the phone rings again. The same disjointed message plays and then he hears Sam's voice. Angry and hurt, and just slightly pissed.

"Fucking machine cut me off. Even your answering machine is out to bloody get me. Look, Hunt I've had enough of this shit. I've been walkin' around in a bloody daze for weeks. This isn't fair. It's a horrible prospect but, Christ Gene, I need you. Come home. I...I miss you"

Click

Fighting the urge to collapse, Gene stumbles to the phone and lifts the receiver. He punches each number quickly, afraid his fingers might seize up.

"Hello?"

"I..I"

"Gene?"

"I miss you too"

Click

*****************

It's been seven days since Sam finally plucked up the courage to call Gene. Seven days of going to any car on the CID lot, opening the door, sitting in the drivers seat and starting the engine. Only for him to loose the will or have something come up.

The squads been busy, there's been a spate of killings so whenever he has managed to get it together enough to pull away, he's been called back.

He's nearly ripped Phyllis's head off a few times and she's started to threaten him with a night in the cells if he ever uses 'that' tone with her again.

He's sat in his office, Gene's office.

He hasn't been able to change anything, as if leaving it the way he had it will somehow help with this feeling of being lost.

He's sat staring into space, contemplating the shittyness of the universe when something just kind of clicks into place. His stomach clenches and he finds himself on his feet, storming out the office, through the squad room and straight past a confused Phyllis, loitering at the front desk.

He all but runs to the nearest car, yanks the door open and throws himself behind the wheel.

Bonus, his team are as thick as they look and for once he's pleased. The keys are hanging in the ignition. Gritting his teeth, Sam fires up the engine and roars out of the car park in a cloud of dust.

******************

Gene's sat in his office, his new office, staring into space. contemplating the shittyness of the universe, when he hears the lift doors slide open and a very familiar voice shouting for DCI Hunt.

He hears one of his officers ask who the new comer is, then pointing him the direction of the Guv's office.

Gene's out of his chair before Sam's all the way through his door. He storms past Sam, hooking a hand into his elbow and yanks him backwards, out the office and down a corridor.

Sam almost loses his balance. He's being made to run backwards so fast he doesn't have time to enjoy the familiar grip Gene's got on his arm.

They slam through the men's loos door. Sam's propelled backwards, thumping his head against the wall. Gene pushes his face right up close, they're nose to nose.

He's got his hands on Sam's chest and is trying to push him through the wall.

"What the fuck are you doin' here? I told you Tyler I told you, don't come here"

Sam tries to beat Gene's arms away, bringing his own down and dislodging his hands. Sam punches his fists into Gene's chest, a double blow, forcing Gene to stumble away from him.

"You make up all the fucking rules don't you? You say jump I say how high. Fuck that Gene, fuck that!"

Gene doesn't see the upper cut coming but he sure as hell feels it.

Sam catches him under the jaw, rattling his teeth and making him bite his tongue.

Gene's head snaps back and he windmills his arms, flailing for purchase on anything solid. He grabs onto a cubicle door, almost taking it off.

Sam lunges forward, wrapping his arms round Gene's waist and head butts him in the chest.

Gene automatically brings his fists down on Sam's spine, thumping him hard enough to wind him.

Sam shapes his hands into claws and digs his fingers into Gene's ribs, heaving for breath, he brings his knee up into Gene's gut then slams his Cuban heel into his shin.

Gene grunts, spits blood onto the floor and screams at Sam "Stop it, Gladys STOP. Tyler!"

Sam's grip has lessened and he's slipping down Gene's body, crumpling before the DCI's eyes. Eventually he's got just one hand twisted in the material of Gene's trouser leg, sat in a misshapen heap at his feet, fighting for breath.

Gene crouches in front of Sam, slips a hand under his chin, bringing his face up into the light.

There are tears, flowing freely down Sam's face. He's got his eyes shut and his jaw is clenching and unclenching.

Gene's heart folds in on it's self. He's never seen Sam so broken and he's disgusted that he's the one who's done this to him. He never meant to hurt him in this way. He just needed some distance, some perspective. Some time.

It was all too fast. Sam had left everything for Gene and it scared the living shit out of him. He'd been afraid it'd all go wrong and then where would he have been? He'd have lost his best friend, his DI and his sanity all in one fell swoop.

So he'd accepted the promotion, packed up and fucked off. Not thinking for a minute that Sam would end up in this state. He was sure Sam didn't really need him, had just latched onto him for some insane reason.

Seeing the evidence to the contrary is like a knife in his chest.

It's automatic, it's a knee jerk in built reaction, the same as it's always been.

Gene goes to Sam, wrapping him in his arms, rubbing his hands over his back, attempting to sooth the hurt, dull the ache in his own chest.

"S'okay, Sammy, come on s'okay. Shhh, come on, don't, shit Sam, don't. Please"

Sam grabs at the back of Gene's shirt, holding him in a death grip. Burrowing his head in the larger man's arms, trying to hide his weakness. He didn't want this, he didn't want the Guv's pity. He wanted him to listen, wanted him to choose for himself.

Sam pushes Gene away and shoots to his feet. He's out the door and down the corridor before Gene has time to react.

Gene follows at a run, knowing if Sam gets back into his car, he'll never see him again.

They're running down flights of stairs, Gene right on Sam's heels, grabbing at his shirt, trying to haul him to a stop. Sam slips through his fingers and keeps pumping his legs. Needing to get away, get out as fast as possible.

Sam bursts through double doors into blessed fresh air. His car's in sight and he's got the keys in his hands. Slamming into the side of it, he hears Gene come through the doors a second later. Fumbling for the lock, his hands are shaking so badly he drops the keys.

Bending to retrieve them, he doesn't hear Gene come to a heaving stop beside him. He straightens and is met with blazing green eyes, daring him to put the keys in the lock and get in the car.

"Sam, don't. Don't run away"

Sam bounces his fist off the side of the car and faces away from Gene "Like you didn't run away you mean?"

Gene slips his hand over Sam's, key's now in the lock, and stills his movements "I'm sorry. Stay"

"No, this was so far beyond a bad fucking idea. I can't believe I came all the way down here, I can't..I can't" Sam's crying again. Silent tears, dripping off his nose and chin.

Gene's own eyes are moist, he can feel himself on the edge of panic again.

"Please, Sammy. Look, I'm a friggin' idiot, right? Should've talked to you instead of leggin' it but...I couldn't, it was too much Sam. You were offering me something I didn't think I could handle, so I panicked"

Sam sucks in a breath and levels his gaze at Gene "You left me, without a real explanation. I thought, I thought we were..but no, after you left. Jesus Gene you left me with your fucking squad. The looks I got, the shit i took, all because you couldn't hack it. It's not the same, I'm not the same without you there"

Gene sidles closer, hand still covering Sam's and leans into his side, "I know"

Someone pulls up beside them and the moment's broken. Sam steps back and Gene leans against the bonnet of the car, reaching into his pocket for his fags.

"I'll get the papers sorted. I'm comin' back. Hope you 'aven't got yaself too comfy in the sheriffs chair. Cos I'll want it back"

Sam can't help the grin, it's spreading, unrestrained across his face. He can feel his heart beating ninety to the dozen, making his head swim.

"Don't worry Guv, I haven't tidied anything up. Although, if you take too long, I might be forced to actually dust your office"

Gene's grin is as big as Sam's and he's chuckling now, unable to help himself "Don't you bloody dare. I like my office the way it is, filthy"

Gene takes Sam by surprise, leaning forward and planting a big, sloppy kiss on his lips.

Sam's eyes widen and he stiffens. Eventually he softens, melting into the kiss.

"Oi, ger'off ya fairy"

"Hey, that's my line"


	8. Dirty dealings and long awaited weekends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been one week since Sam crash landed back into Gene's life.

Friday~

On the drive down, Sam's contemplating the merits of turning up on the Guv's doorstep in nothing but a smile. He quickly dismisses the idea, basically 'cos he's never really fancied doing the hundred meters dash in the nuddy and as smart as he is, he's still gonna have to get from the car to the door without anyone spotting his pale arse waggling across the car park.

Ok, the image is amusing, Gene's face'd be priceless but it's not worth getting nicked for indecent exposure.

At least it's taken his mind of the bats flying round his belly. Shit, why's he so jittery? It's just the Guv, just a weekend in London. It's not really though is it, it's a dirty weekend in London with the bloke who's hauling his rear end back to Manchester to set up home with Sam.

See, it's all kinds of complicated.

It's not like he's never shagged the man before, they aren't going on a first date and he's not gonna meet his parents or anything. In fact, the last seven years of his life have largely been taken up by hopping in and out of bed with his hard headed DCI. So, why exactly does he have butterflies?

He knows exactly what Gene'd say to him; 'Belt up you pansy, s'just a bit of fun', but he can't banish these bloody nerves.

It's so normal; driving down to London to see his boyfriend.

Ha! Boyfriend? Christ, that just doesn't sound right. Sam imagines sending the Guv flowers and choccies and can see the look on his face. No, maybe not. Ok, boyfriend's not the right word then. You can't really call a bloke who's just turned fifty a 'boyfriend' but he's got not a sodding clue what to call him.

Lover..well, yea, Gene's most definitely his lover. Is that all though, is that all this boils down to, this thing between them? He's moved heaven and earth to get Gene to admit what he really feels. Lover doesn't seem adequate.

Partner..they were always that, even before the shouting and the shagging. If he thinks about it logically, the shagging'd just been a natural progression from the shouting. Maybe they'd always been heading to this. Sam doesn't know (he doesn't know a lot right now) but he isn't comfy thinking about what might've happened if he'd refused the Guv's invitation to suck him off in the back of that van.

Life mate...well that's just fucking silly. Thing is, he's running out of titles. They always were a bit undefinable though, Sammy likes it that way. No labels, apart from the obvious.

One thing's for sure, it's the first time since he's forcefully inserted himself back into the Guv's life that he's going for a 'visit' and it's more than a little nerve racking. The last time he'd driven these roads, he'd been about to turn up and turn everything on it's arse.

Maybe that's the reason, he's been asked to come. He's not sure but he wishes his palms'd stop sweating 'cos it's fast turning steering into an extreme sport. He's so caught up in his own little world, he doesn't see the van coming in the opposite direction and almost ends up missing a head. That'd give the Guv a shock.

He vows to give the road his full attention and tries really hard to ignore the little creatures doing back flips in his gut.

*

*

*

Gene's been pacing like a caged animal for the last hour, he can clearly see footprints in his cheap carpet. It's evidence of his inability to sit the fuck down when he's worrying over something.

Sam's coming.

Ok, not the best turn of phrase but it's accurate. If he gets his way, it'll be damned accurate. No, Sam's coming here, now, well soon anyway. Gene's been looking at his watch and the wall clock every five minutes for the last sixty and it's really starting to piss him off. There's a pile of fag butts a mile high in the ashtray, the air's practically turned blue from his many, varied and colourful curses and he's been drinking like a fish since he got in.

Why's he so bloody nervous?

Gene doesn't know but he does know, the last thing he wants is Tyler turning up and finding him too hammered to even answer the door. Wouldn't that be a treat for his DI. Come down to London expecting a weekend of vivid fantasy fulfillment and end up having to paste the aging lothario back together because he's got himself too sloshed to function. Nice.

Gene eyes the tumbler in his hand then slams it down on the side and takes two firm steps back. No, he wants to be able to actually enjoy Sam's presence in his home.

He should've been here by now, what's taking him so bloody long? Gene's rational side (sounding a lot like Tyler) starts spouting about traffic and time delays but his insecure side, the part of him that's been dreading Sam changing his mind, tells him that he's been jilted. Sam's come to his senses and he'll get a 'Dear John' phone call sometime in the next half hour.

It's bloody ridiculous. He's well past the age when you're 'sposed to worry about spouses ditching you unceremoniously..wait, spouses? 'Ecky thump! Since when did he and Gladys get sodding married?

This thinking in circles ain't making Sam turn up any faster and he's beginning to wonder if he didn't just get the time wrong. Wouldn't be the first time he's zoned out on a conversation with the windbag.

He's about to make himself a nice calming cup of tea when the door knocks.

At bloody last!

*

*

*

Sam's as fidgety as a bird with a battery fan shoved somewhere delicate and he can't stop shifting from one foot to the other. He looks like a kid outside his headmasters office and it's making him feel bloody stupid but he can't control it.

It's a freaky feeling, being this nervous about seeing the bloke he's been happily (and not so happily) shagging for the last god knows how many years. It's not quite first date nerves. No, it's...different. Like, if they fuck this up it'll set the tone and they'll be stuck with it, for the rest of their lives.

Bit melodramatic. Still the way he feels.

He lifts his hand to knock, lets it hover in mid air for a moment then brings his knuckles down against the wood, giving it two sharp taps. He hears someone crash into something the other side of the door, swearing, then silence.

Finally, the door cracks, hinges protesting and he can see Gene's face peeking out. It's then that he starts actually breathing again. He hadn't realised he'd stopped, but apparently, according to the spots dancing round in front of his eyes, he had.

Now his lungs have started to function again, his mind goes back to exactly how royally they could screw this up. Gene takes a bloody age to open the door properly but when he does, all Sam's doubts just evaporate.

Gene looks as scared as he feels and it nullifies everything Sam's been worrying about on the way down here, making him feel like a total prat. Thank fuck for that.

Gene's staring at him like he's got two heads and Sam rushes to dispel whatever thoughts've been rattling round his lover's brain all day. "Missed you"

Gene's face breaks into a grin and he stands a little straighter. Years of anticipating Gene's next move has got him attuned to the slightest change in posture, expression or mood. He can see the worry draining from Gene's body and it's soothing.

Gene spots the relieved expression on Sam's face and his own smile widens. He laughs, loud. It comes from somewhere down by his toes and it feels good, bloody good.

They're stood wetting themselves when they both realize that they're still outside Gene's flat instead of in and people are probably starting to look.

Sam sees a tiny shift in Gene's demeanour and his mouth goes dry, his brain freezes and his body begins to hum.

A weeks worth of pent up frustration and nervous energy mutates into something more manageable, something they're used to dealing with and Gene stands back, holds the door wide and raises his eyebrows at Sam.

It's only been five days but Sam feels like a junkie suffering withdrawal. His skin's tingling, buzzing with anticipation of his next fix. He steps over the threshold into hard lines and soft curves and feels himself drift away. This is more like it, this is more like them and it's exactly what he needs.

*

*

*

They've ditched their clothes and are stood in the middle of Gene's bedroom, not saying a word.

Gene's got his arms wrapped round Sam's waist, fingers splayed across his taught belly, enjoying the feel of Sam's flesh surrounding him. God, it's been days but it feels like years. Gene's body responds to Sam's presence the only way it knows how. An instant, violent erection that's begging attention is resting in the cleft of Sam's arse but Gene doesn't want to shatter the moment.

He's got his chin propped on Sam's shoulder and is inhaling the scent of leather and tobacco, of Sam.

Sam lets himself slide back, settling into Gene's arms. He can feel Gene breathing, in out in out, against his back and it's calming as well as maddening. He's spent the better part of the last week imagining doing unspeakable things with his DCI but right now, wrapped in Gene, it's enough just to stand and feel.

Gene turns his head, puts his cheek on Sam's shoulder and brushes his lips against Sam's throat. It makes Sam shiver and Gene's own skin begins to twitch in anticipation.

He traces lazy circles along Sam's jaw, dropping sporadic kisses on stubbly skin. He tastes, he tastes fucking amazing. It's all things, that first mouthful of beer after a hard day, first summer sun cresting the clouds, first time your heart knows you're in love but the rest of you is yet to catch up, all things.

Sam rests his hands on top of Gene's and tangles their fingers together, starts pushing them downwards.

Gene takes the hint and continues down, down, down until he feels the tip of Sam's cock nudging at his palm. Together they wrap their hands round Sam, taking up a rhythm that turns his knees to jelly, his mind to mush.

Gene feels Sam slump against him, head thrown back, throat exposed for further exploration and can't resist taking another taste. While their joined hands drive Sam crazy, Gene lets his teeth and tongue tip him past the point of no return.

Before Sam's legs completely give out, Gene takes his weight and pushes him towards the bed. Sam's too far gone to notice what's happening but he feels the edge of the mattress hit his shins and he falls forward, still with Gene's mouth attached to his throat.

Gene has to remove his hands from Sam but Sam's refusing to let him. Finally Gene frees himself and begins rooting around for something to use. His fingers fall on the tube of lubricant he'd put out earlier and Sam breaks through the fuzzy haze long enough to laugh at him.

"Bit over confident weren't we?"

"Gladys, you were always many things, a sure thing was only one of 'em"

"Cheeky fu..."

Sam doesn't get chance to finish because one of Gene's hands is back, squeezing and manipulating him. The other is spreading cold liquid across his arse and it's making his brain fire off messages left right and centre. Now, more, quicker, harder. All things Gene'll get to but it's no use pushing 'cos he'll take his own sweet time, he always has.

Sam's brain understands that, his body is less patient and his hips buck, causing Gene to slip the finger pushing against him, fully inside.

Gene chuckles but doesn't withdraw his hand, instead setting a rhythm that makes Sam's stomach turn over.

"Eager little beaver ain't we, Sammy boy?"

Sam's vocal cords stopped working somewhere back at Gene's front door and all he can manage is a strangled moan and another twitch of his hips. It isn't long before Gene's slipped another finger inside Sam, making him spread his legs and push down into Gene's palm.

Gene watches Sam ride his fingers and feels his cock jump, beg for some loving of it's own, but he holds back, not willing to give up the view. Sam's a truly gorgeous bloke when he gets going. Usually so stayed, it's so fucking hot watching him when he's like this. Nothing guarded just passion and heat and need.

Gene thinks he could spend a lifetime thinking up ways to break Sam's legendary calm, then realises that's exactly what he's got and the need to completely take Sam over gets too much and he removes his hand.

Sam's body follows, not willing to give up contact but Gene's mouth stops his movement. Leaning forward, letting his tongue slide against heated skin, he leaves a trail of fire that causes Sam's brain to implode.

Gene continues to pump his fist around Sam, raises up on his knees and slips the head of his cock against Sam's arse.

Sam stills, holds his breath, waits for Gene to push forward. When he doesn't Sam begins to beg, "Please, fuck please Gene, don't, just don't make me, shit please"

Gene's body is also begging him, want, take, have so he gives in and buries himself within Sam's tight, hot body. Sam's cry of triumph makes Gene's knees go weak but he holds off from simply pounding into him. Using his free hand to steady himself against Sam, he begins a slow, steady rhythm that sends Sam's already struggling mind into overload.

He's no longer a man, separate parts and pieces, he's one big ball of nerves all screaming for release but he's gonna have to wait it out, wait for Gene to come crashing over the edge to join him.

It doesn't take long, basically because Gene doesn't do will power. Sam arches beneath him and he slams forward, pushing Sam's face into the bed covers. It's uncomfortable, Sam can't breath properly but he isn't gonna complain, not when Gene's riding him like a wild animal and he can feel himself pushing closer and closer to nothingness.

The sounds of flesh against flesh and Gene's voice make Sam claw at the sheets.

"God, shit, Sammy, your so fuckin'..hell it's not gonna, oh god please just..."

Sam clenches his muscles and slams himself into Gene's hand. Gene thrusts into Sam once, twice more then they both fall off the edge of the map.

Sweaty and sated, Gene slumps against Sam's back, lays there and pants until Sam begins to shift under him. Realising he probably weighs a ton, he rolls away, wrapping his arms round Sam and dragging him against his chest.

Sam's still heaving for breath and can't quite manage cohesive thought but he feels Gene drop a kiss into his hair and begins to drift off, knowing that he'll wake tomorrow morning, pleasantly numb.

 

Saturday~

They start early, Sam's always been a quick riser. Well ain't that the truth...Not only is he incapable of sleeping past stupid 'o' clock, he's a cheerful fucker first thing in the morning aswell. It sets Gene's teeth on edge. Especially as he spent the majority of last night using Sam's thighs as ear muffs and he's so shattered he could sleep through Carmen Miranda dancing the fandango on his head.

It's not to be, not when Sammy boy's up, dressed and cooking breakfast in Gene's bloody kitchen. He's making enough noise to wake the dead and the way he's going, he'll be joining the ranks real soon.

Gene's got his'self nice and comfy, head buried deep beneath a pile of pillows, one leg swinging free over the side of the bed but he still can't block out the racket Sam's making. Bastard "S'too friggin' early to be hummin', Gladys"

He hears Sam laugh and really wants to get up and thump the git but that'd take motivation and he's decidedly lacking in that area. Instead he rolls over, presses his head further into the bed and prays something'll fall on Sam, heavy enough to shut him up.

Gene's kitchen is directly down the hall from his bedroom and Sam can see Gene's arse poking out of the covers. It's certainly a distracting sight and he can't help appreciating it. He's appreciating it that much he doesn't feel his hand slipping towards the lit gas and seconds later he's hopping around, sucking on singed flesh.

The noise is too much and Gene really can't get back to sleep so he throws the covers off, stands and saunters into the kitchen, completely starkers.

Sam stops hopping up and down long enough to take in Gene's half hard cock and flicks an eyebrow in his direction.

"What, s'not like you don't 'ave a mornin' shiner. You're just up too friggin early for me to enjoy it"

In all the hopping and jumping, Sam's knocked a tea towel onto the floor. He bends to retrieve it and hears Gene's voice floating above him, "While yer down there"

Sam's about to tell him to piss off, he's not cooking him a fry up and sucking him off, when a memory comes slip sliding into his mind and he grins.

Settling himself on his knees, Sam leans over and flicks the gas off, making sure they aren't gonna get blown sky high, then turns back to face Gene's impressive thigh muscles.

Gene's looking down at him in a mixture of confusion and anticipation, "Was only jokin' Tyler, you don't 'ave to..."

Sam raises his head, reaches forward lightning quick, grabs Gene behind the knees and pulls his legs out from underneath him. Gene slams into the tiles, shouts indignantly and glares at Sam "What the fuck..."

"Shut up" Sam shimmies up Gene's body, takes the tea towel still in his hand and wraps it round Gene's wrists and one of the table legs.

Gene's expression is equal parts intrigue and horny and Sam laughs then slides back down his body, making sure to rub against Gene's now fully erect cock.

The friction makes Gene's eyes roll up in his skull and he moans, low. "What ever it is you're doin' Sam, best get on with it 'cos I'm hungry"

Sam puts a finger to his lips, shushes Gene and lowers himself to Gene's feet.

Gene's about to ask what the fuck Sam thinks he's doing when he feels something hot and wet sliding against his ankle. It shouldn't be getting the response it is but Gene's cock twitches and he moans again.

Who knew, ankles are sexy.

Sam takes his time, running his tongue across Gene's skin, pushing higher and higher until he's got his lips at the back of Gene's knee. Gene's leg jumps and almost smacks Sam in the nose with his knee. Sam decides no blow job is worth getting his face rearranged and continues on his path.

Gene's long since given up trying to think in any kind of cohesive manner, is instead enjoying the way Sam's tongue's rasping against his thighs, causing his belly to dip and flip, his hips to buck. He tries wiggling down, forcing Sam's mouth to where he wants it but his arms are stretched above his head and anchored, he's not going anywhere.

"Tyler!"

Sam chuckles round a mouthful of flesh and asks "What Guv, need something?"

Gene growls and pushes himself as far down as he can, "Yea, you up here, now"

Sam feels the barely retrained strength beneath him and knows that Gene could quite easily free himself but is obviously enjoying the attention. So, instead of pushing his luck, he slides up, lets his breath tickle Gene's curls then takes him into his mouth.

Oh Christ, Sam's got his talented tongue wrapped round Gene's todger and Gene's having serious trouble breathing. Oxygen is becoming an issue because he's too busy concentrating on the way Sam's twisting his neck to really care about making his lungs work.

Gene feels fingers circle him and he slams himself upwards, forcing his cock to the back of Sam's throat. Sam gags once then settles into the feel of having Gene firmly wedged in his mouth and hollows his cheeks.

Sam's squeezing the base of Gene's cock and sucking him as hard as he can. Just a hint of teeth and Gene's fucking Sam's mouth, sliding himself in and out until nothing's left but sky blue fire and hot tight blackness.

Sam hums round Gene, sending vibrations throughout his entire body and Gene feels himself slide right on out of existence. He lets Sam's lips drag him kicking and screaming into his orgasm and spills himself down Sam's throat.

Once his cock is limp and placid in Sam's mouth, he looks up, sees Sam wiping cum from his chin and collapses back to the floor. Jesus. This's gonna be a long weekend.

Sam lets Gene slip from his mouth, crawls up his body and unties his hands. As Gene's massaging some feeling back into his wrists, Sam stands and goes back to their forgotten breakfast.

"Go on stud, get yourself cleaned up, take a shower or something, I'll finish this"

Gene hauls himself to his feet, stands behind Sam and wraps his arms round his waist "Need someone to scrub me back, don't I?"

Sam shakes his head, laughs and continues frying bacon, "No, you need to get dressed. If I get in that shower with you, we'll spend all day in bed"

Gene pouts and shoves his shoulder into Sam's back "You sayin' that's a bad thing?"

"No you plonker, I'm sayin' I'd like to actually see some of London while I'm here. I can get you soapy any time I want"

"You really know 'ow to make a fella feel special, don't ya"

"Stop sulking and get your arse in the shower"

"Fine, but next time you wanna share the loofer, you can forget it"

*

*

*

They've finally managed to make it out the apartment. After breakfast and another round of hide the salami, Sam's got Gene up and dressed and out the door. They're sat in a pub, big shock, and Gene's going on about his new squad.

"S'not that they ain't good coppers. They are. It's just too..."

"Too organised?"

"Ha, but actually, yea, sorta. Although Phinn's quite amusin'"

"Phinn, who's Phinn?"

"My new DI"

It's completely irrational but Sam's brain ticks over into jealous monster mode and he finds himself instantly disliking this 'Phinn' bloke and he hasn't even met him. He knows it's stupid, Gene was bound to get a new DI, it's just, he's Gene's DI, no one else.

"New DI? Oh, replaced me easily enough didn't you"

"Shut up you prat, he's a good bloke. You'd like him. He's just as much of a pain in my arse as you were"

Gene's smiling into his pint and attempting to avoid Sam's eyes. He knows exactly what Sam's saying. He's just refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Although, saying Phinn was his new DI was bound to wind Sammy boy up. Possessive little bugger. Gene knows it'll take Sam all of ten minutes to realize what a dick he's being but in the mean time, why not wind the little scroat up, always good for a laugh.

"Were..were, you forget you're 'sposed to be coming home sometime soon? That means I am a pain in your arse"

"Phinn's been trying to get me to quit smokin', good luck with that. He took me to a bar the other night aswell. Wall to wall fanny as far as the eye could see"

Sam's hackles rise and he feels himself turning green. Phinn, bloody Phinn, taking Gene to a titty bar, fucking cheek. Who does he think he is...He looks up to see Gene grinning from ear to ear and realises he's being played.

Sam blushes, turns his attention back to his drink and refuses to make eye contact with a now laughing Gene.

"You're so easy. An' for your information, I don't like it here, won't be stickin' around just because of DI Phinn, so you can stop gettin' yer panties in a twist"

*

*

*

They've migrated to another bar, Gene'd been getting bored staring at the same four walls and didn't like the music. Not that he ever likes the music in pubs, never quite to his taste. Sam remembers Gene admitting to liking Roger Whittaker and snorts. The day they start playing that crap in pubs is the day Sam becomes a tetotaller.

Gene's at the bar getting another round in and Sam can see he's swaying slightly. Despite his issues with gravity, Gene's looking mighty fine. He's in good shape for an alcoholic chain smoker and Sam's eyes drift to his pert bum.

Gene's coat's hanging on the back of his chair along with his suit jacket, giving Sam a rather nice view of Gene's back and shoulders aswell as his bum. All in all, he doesn't think he's done too bad as far as catches go.

He's so busy enjoying the way Gene's clothes hang on him that he doesn't spot the guy sitting at the end of the bar, eyeing up Sam himself.

Sam may not have spotted him but Gene sure as fuck has and he ain't happy about some dude young enough to be his son, giving his bloke the eye.

He collects there drinks and wanders back to the table. Noticing the dopey look on Sam's face, he contemplates Sam's ability to zone out wherever he is. It's a real talent, not having to be stuck in any old humdrum situation 'cos your mind's a good place to go visiting.

*

*

*

They're now stood at the bar, both leant heavily against it in an effort not to fall off their feet. How do they manage to get so pissed in such a short amount of time?

Sam looks down at his watch and sees that actually, they've been propping up this particular bar for a good few hours and it's well past six in the evening. Shit, don't time fly when you're having fun, or getting hammered.

Gene feels something cold and wet hit the back of his neck and turns to see Sam wiping his chin and looking mightily pissed off. There's a young good looking blond stood directly over Sam's shoulder who's got chiselled features and eyes like the ocean. Gene's hackles instantly come up.

It's the same little shitrag from earlier and as he's now got a belly full of beer, he's quite willing to go a few rounds with him, despite his age, height and weight advantages. Ever the optimist.

Before Gene's had the chance to lay into him, Sam shifts sideways, allowing the younger, fitter looking guy a full view of Gene and raises an eyebrow.

"And what exactly did you think you'd accomplish by pinching my arse?"

"Couldn't resist mate. It looked so good and I didn't think you're 'date' would mind. Not with him being old enough to remember the invention of the wheel and all"

"You cheeky little sh..."

Sam shoves a hand into Gene's face and smirks, "That's an interesting point you raise, allow me to retort" and he thumps him. One good punch that makes the smug bastard's head snap backwards and his arms windmill until he lands flat on his arse in a puddle of god knows what that soaks straight through his too tight designer jeans.

Gene watches the entire exchange, slightly baffled, highly amused and extremely proud. He's obviously been rubbing off on Sam. He'd expected him to talk his way out of the come on, not solve the problem with his fists.

The fact that the guy's good looking enough to model underwear and now has a very impressive shiner blossoming on his cheek, makes Gene chuckle. Serves the cheeky fucker right. Cracking on to his fella right in front of him, he's lucky it was Sam who smacked him. He'd still be searching for his teeth if it'd been Gene.

The youth has scrambled to his feet and is eyeing both Sam and Gene with contempt. He looks set to have another go when Gene interrupts, before Sam gets them both barred from what is fast becoming his favourite pub.

"Run along junior, 'for I give you something to cry about"

"Watch your back old timer"

"Why, it gonna do something good?"

He shakes his head, bears his teeth and growls before stomping away, mumbling under his breath.

"Trouble just seems to find you don't it Gladys?"

"S'not my fault I'm irresistible"

"Oh great, like you needed any more reason to be an egotistical twat. You'll be impossible for bloody weeks"

Sam grins and turns back to his pint before snaking a hand behind Gene and squeezing an arse cheek, hard.

*

*

*

Finally, having forgotten the jumped up little oik and after many rounds, they exit the pub, leaving the stale booze and old ciggie smell behind. Gene stumbles off in the direction of the car only to be stopped by Sam's arm landing heavily round his shoulders "Nuhuh laughing boy. You're pissed" It comes out 'pished' and Gene has to bite his lip to stop from giggling.

Gene shakes Sam's arm off and continues along his unsteady path, rifling through his trouser pockets for the keys to the Quattro. He'd parked it in the alley round the corner from the pub, assuring Sam that no, it wouldn't get nicked. Not even todays scum were brave enough to blag his motor.

Sure enough, there she stands, a shining beauty in the dark. He'd been sad to see the Cortina go but Christ could the Quattro shift. It handled like a dream and Gene'd found himself pushing 120 so many times without even realising it that he'd fallen instantly and deeply in love with her.

Sam often joked that Gene loved that car more than him. He'd given her a name and everything. Slightly sad for a man of his years but hell if he didn't think she deserved a title.

Sam follows unsteadily behind Gene, swaying and tripping over his own feet. It'd be no good trying to wrestle the keys off him in this state. He can barely stand himself, a scuffle with the Guv'd probably leave him nursing a headache and a bruise or two. So he just keeps his mouth shut and wanders into the alley after Gene.

Whilst Gene gets into an argument with his keys, they seem to be refusing to stay in his hand, Sam leans heavily against the wall and watches, tickled by the way Gene's tongue is poking out of his mouth in concentration.

Sam hears a noise at the mouth of the alley and turns, still using the bricks to keep himself upright, to see the blond bloke from earlier standing there, smug smile on his lips, eyes sparking with amusement.

"Didn't I tell you earlier, I don't do wet behind the ears. Prefer my men with a few more miles on the clock"

"Yea, thought I'd give you a chance to reconsider my offer"

"No thanks, preschoolers just don't do it for me"

Gene's finally got his keys in the car door when he notices Sam talking to someone who isn't him. Straightening as much as he can with his world tilting on it's arse, he shuffles forwards to get a look at whoever's got Sam's attention.

He spots the slimy git and attempts to launch himself forward only to have the floor come up to meet him. He hears the blond say "That's a shame mate" and then he sees a pair of extremely expensive shoes shuffling forward.

He hears Sam's grunt then sees him hit the deck, rubbing his jaw and eyeing the toad with disgust, "You hit me!"

"Clever bloke ain't ya?"

"But, you hit me...exactly what part of this plan involves me not kicking your arse 'cos right now sunshine, I'm in no mood for this bollocks"

Gene's managed to pull himself to his knees and is watching closely. Sam's in no state for a fight, not that Gene is either, but he's not gonna let him start or finish something he can't handle. Wouldn't exactly set the weekend off with a bang.

The youth's looking a little less cocky now but he still lifts a foot and kicks Sam in the cheek, sending Sam sprawling backwards onto the shit encrusted floor.

Gene's up and across the distance before junior's put his foot down and lands him one right in the chest, knocking him sideways. While he's trying to right himself, Gene leans down and lifts Sam back on his feet, checking him over and asking how many fingers he's holding up.

"Twelve"

"What?"

"I'm pissed Gene, wouldn't matter if I had concussion or not, you'd still have more digits than you're meant too"

Gene chuckles, nods and is about to turn round when he sees Sam's eyes widen. He's not quick enough to shift out the way and feels pain explode behind his eyes as the git stood behind them hefts a brick into his skull.

Gene's got just enough time to see Sam reaching out to catch him before his world turns black.

Sam manages to get Gene before he hits the floor and lowers him gently to the pavement. When he looks back to the guy still holding the brick, his eyes are full of rage and fire. The bloke must be able to see what a bad idea it'd been to attack his bloke because he turfs the brick, turns tail and legs it out the ally.

Sam's about to run after him when he hears Gene groan and call his name.

"Sammy?"

"Yea Guv, I'm here"

"Shit, what hit me?"

"A brick"

"Little fucker, he gone?"

"Yea, was about to go after him but..."

Sam leans down, runs a hand over Gene's hair and comes away covered in blood. "Shit Gene, you're bleeding"

Gene winces and tries to stand, "Brick Sam, a brick, no wonder I'm friggin' bleedin'"

"You need a hospital"

"I need a drink, s'just a scratch. Get me back to the flat"

"No, we should..."

"I am not goin' to some London quack for a bloody nick, now get me in the car and get me 'ome. I've got a first aid kit there"

Sam sighs, shakes his head then helps Gene up and towards the car, "Fine, but if you've got a gaping hole in the back of your skull and all your brains fall out, don't say I didn't warn you"

*

*

*

Gene's sat at a kitchen chair, grumbling about Sam's lack of bedside manner and flinching away every time he runs the TCP across his skin.

He's got a tiny cut and a hefty bruise already coming up but he'll live. Now he's just pissed that he's gonna have a stonker of a headache and no one to beat up for it.

"You should 'ave tagged the bastard"

"I would have done but you'd just been hit with a brick, I wasn't gonna leave you alone in that alley while I chased him round half of London"

Sam finishes patching him up and drops a kiss into his hair. Gene hisses and Sam laughs, "Sorry, forgot"

"I'll give you sorry"

"Stop bloody whining, could have been worse, he could have hit you somewhere it actually mattered"

Gene growls, whips round and grabs Sam by the hips, pulling him into his lap, "Cheeky sod, should put you over my knee"

Sam's eyes twinkle with something undefinable but he laughs and shakes his head. "Not likely, I'd be walking funny for a week"

Gene reaches up and cups Sam's cheek, presses his lips to Sam's and waits. Sure enough, Sam lets out a strangled sob and folds himself round Gene.

"You could have...he could have, shit Gene"

"Shhh, s'okay, take more than a prick with a brick to take down the Gene Genie"

Gene folds his arms beneath Sam and lifts, pressing him to his chest, carrying him to the bedroom and laying him down gently. Sam's still sniffling and wiping at his eyes but now there's a tension in his shoulders, one Gene can identify with. It might not've been much of a fight but it's still left him with excess energy shooting round his system.

He nudges Sam's knee, makes him shift over and climbs onto the bed beside him. Sam automatically comes to Gene, wrapping himself around his side, borrowing deep into his arms.

Gene strokes Sam's neck and shoulders, lets the shivers shaking his body die out before he speaks, "Hell of a weekend this turned out to be, eh?"

Sam snorts, bunches Gene's shirt in his fist and looks up into sea green orbs, "S'not all bad, got to do a bit of sightseeing, local colour and all that"

"Funny, I'd have preferred not seeing that much local colour but hey, whatever floats yer boat"

Sam gives him a watery smile then lets his head pillow on Gene's chest. Listening to the thumpthumpthump of the heartbeat beneath his ear. They lay like that for a while, Gene still gently running his hands over Sam's skin, soothing and calming until Gene's ministrations start filtering through to the other parts of Sam's body and he feels himself getting hard.

Gene can feel Sam's erection poking him in the thigh and raises an eyebrow at his partner, "You run that thing on batteries?"

"Funny, something about almost losing you, it's just...need to, have to know you're.."

Gene cuts across Sam's ramble with a kiss, silencing him the only way he knows how. He understands Sam's outpouring of emotion. If it'd been him, he'd be completely crazed by now but Sam's more in touch with his feelings and when he feels, he feels it all.

Gene lets his hands travel Sam's body, coaxing small sounds of delight.

Sam simply lays there, kissing Gene, enjoying the feel of having his hands on him.

Gene shifts over, covers Sam with his own body and begins to rock his hips. Making sure that he's touching all the right places, Gene grabs one of Sam's knees, spreading his legs and nestling himself between them.

Together they rock and sway, grind against each other until Sam's mewling beneath Gene and bucking his hips in a jerky, rhymeless dance that trips them both into violent orgasms.

Afterwards, still fully clothed and feeling a little less than fresh, Sam reaches up, tucks a strand of hair behind Gene's ear and mouths "I love you"

Gene smiles, drops a kiss on the end of Sam's nose and says "You too Gladys, you too"

 

Sunday~

They awake late, still dressed and covered in things Sam'd prefer not to think about and head towards the shower.

Once under the spray, Gene takes the soap, lathers it in his hands and starts massaging Sam's shoulders, working out all the kinks in his muscles.

Sam finds himself drifting off, letting himself drown in the feeling of having Gene's hands work wonders on his aching body. As predicted, his body responds the way it always does when Gene treats him like this and he can feel his erection straining and bobbing under the weight of the water beating down.

Gene ignores his own hard cock and turns Sam in his arms, presses him back into the tiles and begins licking his way down his body until he reaches Sam's weeping cock. With soap and water dripping in his eyes, Gene takes Sam into his mouth, surrounds him in slick, hot, heaven.

Sam's hips jerk but Gene pushes them back with his hands and holds him in place. Sam's toes curl as Gene wraps his tongue around and under the tip of him, keens when he removes a hand from his hip to grip his balls, pressing up and back until he's got a finger at his opening.

Finally, it's too much and Sam scrabbles for Gene's shoulders, pulling him upright, preventing him from taking it too far. Gene looks into Sam's eyes, presses his lips to his collar bone and moves forwards.

Sam lifts a leg, wraps it round Gene's waist, makes it easy for him.

Gene positions himself, slides up and encases himself in Sam's unforgiving body. Sam cries out and Gene slams his lips down, swallowing the sound.

It's slow and steady, quiet and gentle, taking them from one high to another, never slipping off the edge, not until Sam breaks the kiss and pleads "Please". That's all it takes for Gene to lose the battle and start shoving Sam into the tiles.

Sam scrapes his nails down Gene's back, lets his hands rest on Gene's arse and digs his claws in, causing Gene to lose it completely. Gene pumps himself into Sam until Sam begins to twitch around him, then he's disappearing into his own little world.

His vision whites out and he has to grab the shower curtain to stop himself from toppling sideways.

Panting, limp and completely drained, Sam watches Gene, chuckles at the look on his face then pushes him away. He steadies him beneath the water, rinses the pair of them off then helps Gene out of the shower.

*

*

*

It's seven thirty at night, Sam's really gotta start driving back but he's still having his tongue sucked by Gene who's got him pinned to his front door. He's almost made it to the car twice just to have Gene distract him with his lips.

It isn't fair, he doesn't really want to leave and Gene isn't playing fair.

"Gene, Gene stop, I've really gotta..."

"No you don't Dorothy, you really really don't"

Sam can feel Gene's hands snaking south and squirms away, much to the other man's annoyance. Gene pouts, makes as if to pin Sam again but Sam manages to grab his bag and open the door before Gene can get his hands on him.

Gene, still sulking, walks to the door and brushes his lips across Sam's before stepping back and nodding, "See you next week?"

"Course! I'll give you a ring in the week. See you soon Guv"

"Yea, see ya, Gladys"

Gene watches Sam's retreating figure until he's all the way out of sight and down the stairs before he shuts the door. It's gonna be a long, long week.


	9. Squeeze me please me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Gene Hunt ever consider a phone attractive.

"'lo"

"S'me"

"'Bout fuckin' time Tyler"

"Don't get shitty Gene, it's not becoming of a guy your age"

"I've been sat 'ere waitin' on your skinny white arse for an hour. Me nut's 'ave gone blue an' I can't feel me feet. I think I'm entitled to be a lil 'Shitty'"

"All right all right, I'm here now. So urm, you start"

"Me!?!"

"Yea, you. Come on, it can't be that hard"

"....."

"Sorry, didn't think"

"You should feel it, you'd be thinkin' then"

"Funny"

"I thought so"

"Geneeee, come on. I've been looking forward to this all day. Suck it up and get on with it"

"Right. Fine. I've got me 'and on me knob"

"Noooo *snerk* we've talked about this, it isn't that difficult"

"Well what d'ya want me to say then?"

"I dunno but 'got me 'and on me knob' is not sexy"

"Christ this is hard"

"That's more like it"

"Ha.Ha"

"You were the one complaining about not getting laid for five whole days. This was your idea, now get on with it"

"I got nothin'"

"Fine lot of good you are. Be still my beating heart, Gene Hunt's got nothing"

"All right, hang on, lemme get meself comfy then"

"I can hear you swearing ya know"

"Well, bloody waste of time this is. Phone sex, phone sex! Makes me think of some bird shovin' her hand set up her..."

"Stop it, stop right there"

"*Giggle*"

"You know, we've done a fair few things, things that are illegal in some countries but I'm never gonna get used to hearing you giggle"

"Sod off"

"Now now"

"Right, I'm ready"

"Okay, tell me what you're wearing"

"Urm, same thing I always wear, clothes"

"For Gods sake Gene, make a bloody effort"

"Ok, ok. I'm wearin' those blue button down trousers you like, the ones with the pockets"

"Hmmm, anything else?"

"Nope, just the trousers"

"So you're topless. This is information I could use you know!"

"Come on Sam, S'not my fault, where I come from we don't have sex with phones, we have sex with people"

"Just, imagine me there, touching you. Tell me what you feel, what you want"

"What I want is you here, naked and covered in squirty cream, what I feel is horny as hell and I'm about to stamp on this soddin' phone until I can see it's inner workin's. Happy?"

"Ok, better. Violent but better. All right, I'll start"

"Go on then, astound me"

"I'm wearing that silk shirt you love, you know the one that sticks to my skin"

"Mhmm"

"I've got my hand down my trousers, I'm rubbing my cock, massaging it"

"Shit"

"See, not so difficult"

"Don't ruin it"

"Sorry. I can feel myself twitching, pulsing against my palm. I'm rubbing harder now, fingers squeezing their way up and down my cock, imagining it's you, your hand"

"Mmm, god, yea"

"Tell me what you're doing"

"Shit, I'm...I'm rubbing myself, got me hand clasped tight round me cock, it's so hard. I can feel you, all round me"

"That's it, tell me what you want me to do"

"Run the tips of yer fingers over the head of yer cock"

"Mmm, yea, that's it"

"God, Sam, I can feel you, if I shut my eyes I can feel you suckin' me. You've got your hot little mouth clamped round my achin' dick"

"What else am I doing?"

"Your fingerin' me. You've got, shit, you've got two fingers rammed right up my arse and you're fuckin' me with 'em. Hard"

"Christ, Gene I can see it. Come on, don't stop"

"I'm ridin' your mouth, slammin' my cock right to the back of yer throat. You're so wet, so warm. Shit I can see myself disappearin' inside your wicked mouth"

"Fuck, Gene I'm close, keep going. Tell me how you're gonna cum in my mouth, how I'm gonna drink it all down"

"Bloody hell Tyler, this is amazin' it's like, you're right here in front of me. I can hear your breathin' feel your tongue and teeth. Oh shit I'm gonna.."

"That's it Gene, cum for me, let me hear it, let me hear you"

"Shit, fuck, bollocks I'm cummin' Mmm, Sam, Sammm"

"Oh yea, that's it, that's the spot, right there...Shit Gene I'm gonna I'm.."

"Nrarghh"

"Nrarghh"

"......"

"......"

"S..see, easy"

"Shittin' hell. Why did no one tell me 'bout this before? I think me eyes just fell out me arse"

"*Snerk*"

"Oh shut up"

"So, feel better?"

"Hell yea"

"Not such a stupid idea?"

"Who said anythin' 'bout that bein' a stupid idea?"

"......."

"Night Sam"

"Night Guv"

Click


	10. Telegram Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's phoned, he's visited, what else is there left?


	11. Homeward bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gene's headed home...

It's taken Gene two months to secure his transfer, but finally he's headed back to his city and his man. He hasn't told Sam he's coming, thought it'd be a good idea to surprise him. He can't wait to see his face when he walks into the Railways Arms.

Ray, rather predictably has decided to follow Gene back but Chris has chosen to stay in London. Good for him, he'll go far and he's promised to keep in touch, let Gene and the others know how he's getting on.

They've spent every weekend together since Sam went and confronted him. Sam's travelled down to London each Friday, they've holed up in Gene's flat and haven't surfaced again until Sunday evening when Sam's had to drive back.

Gene's never spent so much time naked before. He's become quite accustomed to wandering around in the buff with Sam wolf whistling and making lude suggestions.

Each week has taken forever to pass and then the weekends have fled by, leaving both men craving another few hours.

Gene thinks perhaps he's turned soft in his old age, he keeps finding himself doodling Sam's name on those horrid little post-it notes and humming, bloody humming for no sodding reason.

They've mastered the art of phone sex and become quite adept at letter writing. Not that four pages of smutty descriptions and indecent pictograms counts as a letter, seems to amuse the pair of them though.

Jesus, they've turned into a couple of Mary Sue's.

Gene doesn't really mind though, not when the reward for being such a soppy bugger is Sam spread eagled, covered in honey or something else equally as sticky sweet and begging to be ridden like a wild pony.

So, he's in his car, bopping along to a bit of Status Quo and enjoying the frenzied anticipation of finally getting to see Sam properly, back on his home turf. Not that it'll be easy mind. They can't just start snoggin' in the halls of CID. Although, Ray's face would be priceless. Not to mention Phyllis's.

They've agreed that they'll get a flat together, they'd gotten into the habit of driving to work together anyway, no one'll notice if they start doing it again.

It'll be strange, being back in his old division. He's only been gone 3 months but even now Gene can feel the things he's learnt in London changing the way his brain ticks over.

The main thing is he'll be home, at last.

That first week, after Sam'd had to leave, go back to Manchester, was absolute torture. Knowing they'd crossed the line, that they were really doing this but they couldn't be together. It drove them both mad. It'd broken Gene's heart having to listen to Sam actually crying down the phone.

Too many whiskey chasers and Sam turned into a complete girl but if Gene was completely honest, he'd felt like bawling a fair few times since finally admitting how much he needed and wanted Sam in his life.

He's not far, another 20 minutes and he'll be parked up outside his local. That was another thing, he could never find a pub he liked in London, too many students, not enough decent music and the prices were extortionate. Plus he'd missed Nelson's toothy grin and wise cracking humour.

He can feel Manchester seeping back into his pores, the smells and sounds. The way he knows every corner, every haunt and dive. The people and places, it's all so familiar yet so new. Running away has certainly given him some perspective.

Finally he comes to a stop in the alley behind the pub. He kills the engine and sits with his head on the steering wheel for a moment, just taking it in, enjoying the sense of 'home' these streets bring him.

Pocketing his keys, he hauls himself out the car, not bothering to lock it. He may've been away for a while but the scum wouldn't dare steal his motor, not even now.

He can't decide whether to walk in the front or the back door. The front will mean he makes an entrance, the back means he can really surprise everyone. For everyone read Sam, but still. He knows Sam'll be here. It's a Tuesday and he always plays darts with the rest of the Squad. He took Gene's spot when he left, it's good, means he can mingle with his men and keep Gene's place open for him.

Gene makes a decision. He'll pop in the back, slide in unnoticed and wait for Sam to actually spot him. Should be good for a laugh. He likes to pretend he's unaffected when it comes to Sam, in truth he's got goose bumps in places he didn't know they could sprout and his dick is already half hard at the thought of shaggin' Sam to within an inch of his life.

He takes a deep breath and heads into the pub. The sounds and smells of his favourite watering hole infiltrate his senses, forcing their way back into his system. He can hear the lads ribbin' some poor bird and Nelson's infectious laugh. The iridescent stench of too many men in one small space seeps up his nose, permeates his clothes.

God it's good to be back.

He peeks round the door into the bar, spots Nelson and nods, slipping a finger against his lips, he motions for him to keep Gene's presence quiet. The land lord just smiles, nods once and turns back to his paper, a silly little grin plastered on his face.

He takes his time, left then right then left again. Eventually he's leaning casually against the bar. Looking as if he's been there all night. He lets the heady mix of familiarity and peace wash away the itch and scratch of London. He's been craving this place, these people. One above all.

Gene spots him in the corner, concentrating on a shot he'll never pull off. He throws the dart, watches with sad resignation as the flight flips up and over, embedding the point into the cork board beneath it's supposed destination. He shakes his head, kicks a table leg in frustration and swears under his breath.

The image is one that Gene's been hankering after for three solid months, 93 days spent daydreaming about Tyler looking like a prat isn't good for the brain but it's certainly good for his soul. Sam in London was one thing, Sam here is a whole other ball game. This is where they belong, together.

See, soft!

He smiles softly, enjoys the sight of Sam pouting like a child and sulking for England. Some things will never change.

Gene waits patiently. Sam'll come to the bar eventually and when he does, Gene can't wait to see the look on his face.

Finally Sam downs the dregs of his pint and turns towards the bar. He doesn't see Gene, instead he heads for the uniform swaying precariously on his stool. They chat for a minute, Sam helps him to the door, pats him on the back and waves him on his way. Ever the bloody do gooder.

When Sam turns, sees a flash of familiar colour, he thinks he's hallucinating. He's imagined Gene walking into the pub so many times over the last weeks that he's begun to doubt his already fragile sanity.

He slams his eyes shut, rubs his face and pinches his arm. When Gene obstinately refuses to dissolve away to nothing, Sam shouts so loud several people drop their drinks.

"You bastard"

"Nice, that the welcome I get is it?"

"You complete bastard"

Sam eats up the distance between them in a few short strides, wrapping himself round Gene and squeezing him hard enough that Gene's sure he can feel ribs cracking.

Gene sinks into the embrace, lays his own arms around Sam's quaking form, allows himself to breath in the scent of prissy boy aftershave and stale ciggies.

They cling to each other a minute longer than is strictly required of a senior officer and his deputy. Then Gene remembers exactly where they are and shoves Sam away from him, laughing and shaking his head.

"Ger'off you poof"

"Well if you're gonna be like that you can piss off back to London"

Gene affects a wounded pose, hand on heart, head drooping.

"You don't mean that"

Sam attempts a stern look, fails miserably and falls about laughing.

"Nah, but it was worth it for the look on your face"

The humour is natural, it's a mechanism but it's more than that, it's built in to who and what they are. The easy banter and gruff affection is something else they've both been missing since Gene did his disappearing act.

"So, drink?"

"One track mind, you"

The lines around Gene's eyes crease and he bites his lip, waggling his 'brows at Sam.

"All right, two tracks, but they're both mucky"

"I'll try again shall I. Drink?"

"Drink"

They settle themselves at the bar, both perched on creaky stools that have seen better days. They sit as close as possible, arms crossed, elbows touching, fingers joined beneath them where no one can see.

"Nelson?"

"Monbrave?"

"Chaser for the boss"

"Commin' up. Welcome back Mr Hunt, we been missin' ya round here. Too quiet"

"Oi, cheeky sod. I'm no that bad"

Nelson chuckles and goes to fetch the drink, leaving Sam and Gene to sit in comfy silence. Sam still can't believe he's here, after all the waiting, wanting, frantic phone sex and filthy notes, he's finally home.

Sam shuts his eyes and inhales, wallowing in the Gene's familiar scent. It calms his nerves and sets them on fire all at the same time.

He isn't gonna be able to stay still for long, not when he's got a six foot something horn dog sat right next to him. So they only saw each other 2 days ago but that was different, that was a world of hurried sex and hushed declarations. A place where a minute not spent touching was a minute wasted.

Here they can take there time, know each other, enjoy each other. It'll be the way it was before Gene got cold feet, except Sam'll actually be waking up to Gene instead of wondering where Gene's waking up.

Sam's so lost in thought he doesn't even notice Nelson bringing their drinks or wishing Gene well again. He's brought back to reality by the distinct waft of scotch drifting up his nose. When he opens his eyes, they meet a pair of stunning green ones. There's a light behind them, a promise, a question. It makes Sam's heart hammer in his chest and his cock twitch in response.

"Come on Gladys, drink up. I'm famished"

There's no mistaking the meaning behind Gene's words. He wants Sam alone, now. Sam doesn't need telling twice. He downs his drink, coughing and spluttering when the burning liquid goes down the wrong hole.

Gene laughs and slaps him on the back "Still can't take your drink I see"

Sam waits for his eyes to focus and fixes Gene with a glare "Shut it Guv"

Gene chuckles again and slides from his barstool, Sam on his heels. They head out the back door, offering Nelson a wave good bye.

Once outside, Sam can't resist a sneaky snog. Just a quick one, they're still in plain sight and stood right under a street lamp. He slips his hand between Gene's coat and shirt, scratching a pattern on Gene's already heated skin.

Gene stretches like a lazy cat enjoying a good pet. His entire body shivers and he arches his back into Sam's hand.

Sam shifts onto his toes and runs the tip of his tongue along Gene's bottom lip. Gene opens his mouth a little, offering Sam the opening he needs. He covers Gene's mouth with his own, massaging Gene's lips, hollowing his cheeks and sucking Gene's tongue into his mouth.

Sam slips his other hand up Gene's waist, along his chest giving the nipple a quick pinch and across his shoulder, coming to a stop tangled in Gene's hair.

Gene's gripping the back of Sam's head with one hand, holding him steady, not letting him slip away. He's got the other on Sam's arse, flexing his fingers, digging his nails into cloth covered flesh.

Breathing is becoming an issue, the pair of them are so wrapped up in each other, the spots dancing behind their eyes are a mere distraction. Eventually they have to break for air, both panting and flustered. Forehands touching, they look into each others eyes.

"Shit"

"Yea"

"Come on, 'for I decide to rut you against the bonnet of the car"

Sam's eyes widen and his breathing falters.

"You'd like that wouldn't you? You really are a dirty little slag Tyler"

"You love it"

Gene's eyes become serious for a second. His grip on Sam's neck is almost painful, his fingers are twitching and his gaze flicks left and right. He opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again.

"I..I do, yer know..I mean I"

Sam can see the struggle going on in Gene's head, he desperately wants to say it but he's still a man from a different generation, men just don't go admitting they've fallen arse over tit in love with other men.

Sam takes pity. He knows, after all. How can he not?

"I know, Gene. I know"

Gene breathes a sigh of relief, his grips slackens a little and he mouths 'Thank you' to Sam.

They straighten, pull away from each other and head for the car.

Sam's got himself, well he's got them, a new place. It's small but it's not scuddy like his last gaff. He hopes Gene'll like it. He gives him directions and they speed off towards their new home. Neither one is sitting comfortably, they've both got raging hard ons and brains full of smutty ideas to pass the time between now and tomorrow morning.

If Gene's driving is a little shaky, a little haphazard, Sam doesn't comment. If it was him driving, they'd have probably ended up wrapped round a lamp post.

Sam decides to play a little dirty. Half way back, he slides across towards Gene, runs a hand up the inside of his thigh, raking his nails down the material, leaving goose bumps behind. The car swerves and Gene swears. He glares at Sam from the drivers seat, but says nothing.

Sam takes that as a sign for the good and continues scratching tiny patterns in Gene's trouser leg. Sliding his fingers within millimetres of his cock then swiftly dragging his hand away before Gene can grind himself into Sam's palm.

The bulge in Gene's trousers is clearly visible and his left eye is twitching but he keeps his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Sam un clips his seat belt, hunches his shoulders and bends his head towards Gene's crotch.

Gene can feel Sam's hot breath puffing against him through his trousers. It's excruciating but it's something he's been imagining the entire drive back so he's not gonna complain. When Sam's tongue snakes out and rasps against his trapped cock, Gene almost plows them into a wall.

Sam begins to mouth the bulge in Gene's trousers, lapping and sucking, engulfing him in heat but never actually touching skin. Gene's squirming in his seat, moaning and gripping the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles go numb.

His trousers are beginning to cut off circulation and his legs are tingling, actually tingling but he doesn't dare say anything, doesn't want Sam stopping what he's doing.

Sam hollows his cheeks and sucks Gene into his mouth, material and all. Gene practically leaps out his seat. How he manages to keep the car going in a straight line, he'll never know but the sensations Sam's creating are gonna drive him insane.

"Stop"

Sam ignores him, carries on tonguing his crotch and he can feel saliva seeping through the material now. A tantalizing reminder that a few thin layers separate Sam's tongue and his cock.

"Please, stop"

Sam gives him one last squeeze and pulls up, wiping his mouth and smirking.

"What's up Guv, too much for you?"

"Unless you wanna spend the next week in traction 'cos I drove us into someone's front garden, I advise you keep that wicked mouth of yours to yourself 'til we get home"

Sam chuckles darkly and points ahead of him. "That's it. You wanna pull in here"

Gene swings the car round the corner on two wheels and slides into a parking space, scuffing up dust and debris. He's now uncomfortably hard and can think of nothing but sliding inside Sam's tight little body.

Sam exits the car and waits for Gene to gather himself enough to get out. Drumming his fingers on the roof of the car, he smiles to himself, smug that he can still make Gene crazy.

Gene eventually climbs out, readjusting himself and grumbling under his breath about 'Wanton slags'

He limps in the direction of the flats then realises he doesn't know where he's going and waits for Sam to fall in step.

Sam saunters past him, squeezes his arse and keeps walking.

Gene's mouth hangs open, as if he can't quite believe the gaul of some people then grits his teeth and follows on.

Sam's just about to put his key in the lock when Gene slams into him from behind making him hit his head against the door. He stays slumped against wood, trying to stop his nose from throbbing, when he feels Gene's tongue, lapping at his neck, curling up and round his ear, dipping inside and then withdrawing.

His hands aren't idle. He's forced one inside Sam's trousers and is gripping him, almost to the point of pain.

"Think you're so clever Sammy boy? Let's see how you like it"

He takes up an angry rhythm, sliding his fingers across the tip of Sam's cock and then slamming them downwards to the base. All the while his mouth is doing amazing, wonderful things to Sam's neck and throat. He's nibbling on Sam's ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth, sending spasms of electricity shooting round Sam's body straight to his cock.

Sam's hips jerk, he tries to match Gene's movements but Gene holds him still, hand on his hip preventing him from joining in the fun.

Eventually Sam begs Gene to stop, stop or he's gonna cum in his pants but Gene keeps up his steady strokes, dragging him closer and closer to the edge. Just as Sam feels his spine twist, his balls tighten, Gene retracts his hand, leaving Sam cold and aching.

"Bastard"

"Not nice is it?"

"Bloody bastard"

Gene smirks and plucks the key from Sam's limp hand. He opens the door and shoves Sam through. Sam's still trying to remember where he left his legs, they've gone completely numb and he can't feel his toes. Bastard.

Sam comes back to himself enough to lead the way to thier flat, up the stairs, left, right then left again. He's fumbling with a second key, attempting to find the lock and missing everytime. He can't concentrate because Gene is behind him, right behind him, grinding himself into his backside. Swivelling his hips and pressing his cock into Sam's arse.

It's making Sam's own cock jump and twitch and as a result he can't seem to get his bloody hands or brain to work. Finally Sam manages to slip the key in the lock and they're inside.

He'd been so nervous about this place, what if Gene didn't like it, what if he didn't want to stay here with him but by the looks, Gene wouldn't care if it was bare floor boards and a packing crate for a bed, as long as there's something to slam Sam into, he's happy.

Gene's still behind Sam, still got his hands all over his back, scratching and groping, grabbing at clothes and skin. They thump into a wall, almost knocking a picture down. Sam's about to protest, tell Gene to watch it, when he's got his hand down his trousers again and all rational thought flees.

Gene wastes no time making short work of Sam's troublesome trousers. Yanking them off, almost ripping them in his haste to get Sam naked.

Sam twists in Gene's arms, turns to face him and slams into a heaving chest, Gene's eyes are wild and his cheeks are flushed. Not so unaffected then.

Sam sets to work on Gene's clothes, ripping his shirt open, popping buttons left and right. He sees a pert nipple and latches on, sucking it into his mouth, running his tongue across the tip, enjoying the way the skin puckers and tightens.

He slavs one nipple, then the other, nipping none so gently, dragging a growl from Gene.

Gene grips Sam's head, pinning his mouth to his chest. Sam sucks and licks, biting and scraping his teeth across salty skin.

Eventually it becomes too much and Gene physically yanks Sam's face away from his body. Sam goes for his trousers next, pulling his zip down, yanking them as far as his arms will reach and then puts his foot in the crotch, pushing them the rest of the way to the floor.

Gene toes his shoes off and steps out of his trousers, flinging them with one foot, paying no attention to where they land.

They stand there, barely dressed, panting, randy as hell and desperate for something, anything to cool the heat, slake the thirst.

Sam pushes Gene backwards, hands flat against his chest, until the backs of his knees bump into the sofa and he crumples, landing heavily on his arse.

Sam looks down at him, takes in his wild eyes, messy hair and erect cock and can't believe he's finally back, finally home. 'Bout bloody time.

Sam crawls into Gene's lap, wraps his legs round his waist, hooks his ankles together behind his back.

Gene slides his hands up Sam's sweaty back and hooks his fingers over Sam's shoulders, anchoring him in place.

Sam shifts up enough to allow Gene's cock into the right position then he slides himself down, engulfing Gene. He watches, transfixed as Gene's eyes roll and his mouth opens in a silent scream. Once Sam's completely encasing him, he bends his head and captures Gene's lips in a searing kiss.

When he starts to rock his hips, slide himself along his length, he doesn't let go of Gene's mouth. Keeps kissing him and kissing him, matching the rhythm his tongue takes to the rhythm his hips take.

Gene begins to jerk his hips, the angle's all wrong but he can't stand not participating. The burn behind his eyes and at the base of his spine is making it physically impossible to just let Sam ride him.

Sam continues to rock them both into nothingness. He slides up, hovers and then slams himself back down, setting off sparks and explosions. There's a buzzing in his ears, he can't feel anything but where he and Gene are connected. He doesn't know where one ends and the other begins.

Gene grips Sam's shoulders tighter, bringing him down hard , making his eye's water with the painful ecstasy of it all. Gene can feel his balls tightening, the twist and snap of something shooting up his spine and then he's cumming, he's cumming hard and fast and Sam's right there with him, shooting sticky streams of himself all over Gene's shirt and chest.

They ride it out, continue to rock until they can see straight, then Sam pulls his mouth from Gene's, rests his forehead against his shoulder and whispers "Welcome home'


	12. Integrating patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gene's in his own personal hell

Bloody hell. It's a Saturday, he shouldn't have to be stuck in some god awful supermarket staring at swatches of colour, with Sam going on about shadin' and intergratin' patterns. Gene's in his own personal hell.

He should be in the pub, with the lads, watching the footie and gettin' steadily more pissed as the afternoon passes. Instead Sam's managed to cajole him into curtain shopping. Curtains for Christ sake!

Sometimes Gene wonders exactly what he did to deserve a picky, analy retentive, OCD suffering man-whore as a partner. Other days he thanks his lucky stars the man-whore hasn't come to his senses and figured out he's an ageing dinosaur with a flabby tum and rapidly thinning hair.

This'd be one of the former.

If he has to pretend to be interested in one more hideous piece of material, he's gonna top himself right here in amongst the nets. He's gonna pull his gun out and actually blow his brains to smithereens. He's got the headache to end all headaches and the sound of women twittering on about complimenting colours is beginning to make his teeth itch.

The things you do for a decent shag!

Doesn't help that Sam's wearing his tightest pair of jeans. Everytime he bends or stretches to pick up another god awful piece of cloth, Gene's cock jumps to attention. All he really wants to do is rag him into the wall, instead he's got to nod as if he gives a shit and make enough noise for Sam to think he's still awake.

The only thing that'd make this experience any more humiliating would be if someone from work showed their face. He'd die. Not only would he have to explain exactly why he's watching Sam paw through oddments bins but he'd never live it down. Gene Hunt does not shop for upholstery.

He's just finished shuddering at the thought when he hears a familiar drawl. Smells a familiar aftershave.

Shit.

Not ten feet away is Ray Carling, swearing under his breath and shuffling his feet. He's looking as lost as Gene feels and hasn't noticed the pair of them yet.

Gene searches frantically for somewhere to hide, he's seriously considering diving in one of the bins when another voice filters through, making him stand stock still.

"Come on Ray, s'not like I'm askin' you to commit to marriage, just wanna know what colour you think'd go best in the kitchen is all"

"Chris, I couldn't care less if you left the windows in the kitchen completely bare and let the neighbours watch me shaggin' you into the sink, just pick a soddin' pair of curtains so I can get down the pub"

"If you're gonna make me drive up from London every weekend, then I am not staring at those shitty black things you've got hangin' in your kitchen"

"Just pick a pair of bloody curtains 'for I decide to change the locks"

"Rayyyy"

"Fine, them ones"

"But that's blue, you can't have blue in a kitchen, makes it feel cold"

"ARGH!"

"Right, right, blue it is"

As they wander towards the checkout, Gene can't help the bubble of laughter forcing its way up his throat. Well that explains an awful lot.

He's brought back to himself by Sam tugging on his sleeve and pointing to another piece of truly disastrous material. Sam has absolutely no taste.

"Beautiful"

"Really?"

"Yea"

Sam leans up and plants a sloppy kiss on Gene's cheek.

Perhaps this shoppin' lark ain't so bad after all.


	13. Schrodinger's cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Gene **will** regret this

Sam's wearing a blindfold. Sam's wearing a blindfold and Gene's leading him somewhere and damned if he isn't getting a little horny at the prospect of Gene being in charge, well more in charge than usual anyway.

By rights he should be worried, very worried. They're inside the police station, nothing good ever came of Gene Hunt blindfolding someone inside CID, but, Sam's a kinky little bitch and he's starting to think he's on a promise.

He hears Gene unlock a door and guide him, hands on his hips, into what is basically a cupboard. Even with his eyes covered Sam can tell that.

Gene leans close enough to ruffle the stray hairs from his sideburns and whispers to stay put.

After he's been inside the small space for five minutes and the Guv hasn't returned, Sam gives in and removes the blindfold, "Wha..."

He's in the stationary stores. What the fuck! There's a small bare light bulb hanging down and wall to wall paperclips and pencils. What the hell's Gene playing at?

Another five minutes passes and Sam slides his very bored arse down the one empty wall and resolves to wait it out. Maybe Gene's playing some game.

Yet more time. Probably not even five minutes, and the lock clicks open on the door. Looking up, Sam expects to see Gene with an evil grin and a boner. What he actually sees is more horrifying than he thought possible.

Chris is leading a very blind Ray into the same cupboard as Sam and Gene is stood behind with his pistol out, daring Sam to make a break for it.

"Right you two, me and the DC here have had a little chat. We're bloody sick to the back teeth of you two macho, huh, look at me using the word macho to describe Dorothy, anyway, we're sick of you two buggers keep griping, bitching, fighting like little girls. Kill or cure people, kill or cure. Sort it out. Or else. Got it, good!"

The last thing Sam sees of the outside world is Chris shaking his head, mouthing sorry and then grinning like an idiot.

"Don't you dare, Guv..Gene. GENE"

Too late.

The door's bolted and all he has for company is a very pissed off looking DS Carling. Fantastic!

Yanking the scrap of cloth from his eyes, Ray shoots Sam the mother of all evils and starts hammering on the door.

"Oh you 'ave gotta be fuckin' jokin' me! Lemme OUT!"

"Hey, Carling, it's not like I wanna be stuck in a four foot by two foot room with you anymore than you wanna be stuck in it with me!"

Judging by the slightly pouched portion of denim covering Ray's crotch, he'd been thinking along the Same lines as Sam before he'd been side lined into captivity by his partner and his Guv'nor.

Fabulous.

Ray sober was awful. Ray drunk was twice as bad. Ray horny and annoyed was probably going to defy all records.

"What the fuck you grinnin' at!"

Sam slams the back of his head into the wall, hoping he'll knock himself out, wake up and be under Gene, and sighs, "Nothing Ray, nothing at all"

Ray persists in slamming both fists against the only thing keeping them from blessed fresh air and freedom and hollers at the top of his lungs, "I'm warnin' you Chris, lemme out or I swear to god..."

Sam's gotta hand it to that door. It may look flimsy and very breakable but with 14 stone of angry Manc' beating it to within an inch of it's life, it's still holding up it's end pretty damn well.

"I'd give up if I was you Raymond. I don't think anyone's coming to let us out. If I know Gene, and believe me, I do, then he's threatened death and destruction and disembowelment on anyone who even thinks about letting us go free"

Hanging his head, letting his hands fall limply to his sides, Ray admits defeat and slumps to the floor opposite Sam.

"Well what the bloody 'ell we gonna do now?"

"Wait it out?"

Scrubbing a hand across his face, Ray grimaces and shakes his head, "Not the only one who knows the Guv and I'm betting we ain't gettin' out of here for a while"

Chuckling in that pained way that people develop when they figure out they're between a rock and a hard place, Sam rolls his eyes and nods, "Yep, I'd bet you a tenner but I'd like to keep my money"

"What the bloody hell they playin' at, I mean it's not like they can force us to get on..."

"Hmmm", there's only so long Sam can stare at Ray's twitching 'tache before he wants to rip it off like velcro, so he starts to have a rummage on the shelves and comes up short, "Bastards. Utter BASTARDS"

Curiosity peaked, Ray leans over and spots what Sam's now holding in his white knuckled fist, "Bastards!"

Clenched in one of Sam's hands is a paper bag, not just any paper bag, it's a paper bag from the Arms with a half bottle of scotch, pack of ciggies and two manky looking sarnies in.

Utter fucking arse hole bastards.

"They planned this"

Sam whirls, pins Ray with a livid look and sneers, "No, really, your powers of observation astound me DS Carling!"

"Oi, it's not my fault, don't be bitin' at me Boss!"

Sliding back into his original position, Sam tutts and lays his head on his knees.

"Well, for god sake Ray. Of course they planned it, or did you think Gene and Chris just happened to blindfold us and throw us in the same cupboard by chance! Jesus"

Snatching the bag out of Sam's hands, Ray unscrews the bottle of very inviting looking amber liquid and takes a long pull, "Bastards"

"Look we may aswell at least pretend we're trying to fix whatever it is they want us to fix. Do you really think alcohol is a great idea?"

Ray takes another swig and offers it to Sam, "If I 'ave gotta be stuck in 'ere with you, I'm thinkin' it's a bloody fantastic idea"

Sam considers this for a second and makes a grab for the bottle, "Point taken"

Savouring the burn of scotch, Sam closes his eyes and heaves a great sigh, "Pass us a fag Ray"

"Wha..."

"I used to smoke, and right now, it's either a fag, or I break several of the bones in my hand trying to punch my way out of here"

Ray chuckles and throws the pack of cigarettes at Sam, "Point taken"

They sit in not so companionable silence for a few minutes, both puffing away and living in their own little world until Sam can't take the quiet anymore and just has to ask.

"Why do you hate me so much Ray?"

Without even looking up from his lap, Ray attempts an honest answer, for once.

"I don't, or well, I mean, I didn't mean to...Never set out to hate you Boss. It's just, you turned up, right when I was gonna get a leg up, and took my slot"

"It can't just be that, I mean come on. You have been on my back from the minute I landed in this arse about face place. Why? What did I do?"

Sighing, shaking his head and trying really hard not to snap the neck of the bottle he's gripping, Ray decides it's about time he went for broke. Fuck it, they're stuck in this shitty little cupboard, why not let him have it.

"Right, cards on the table?"

"Yea"

"You took the Guv away. You took Chris away. You took the whole place and turned it on it's bloody head and everyone, even the Guv, with his 'I hate change' attitude just got on with it. I was the only one who had trouble dealing with it. I've been policing these scum ridden streets for years, workin' a specific way, doin' as I'm told, told by Gene bloody Hunt and then you come along and suddenly everything I'm doin' is wrong. And neither one of 'em stood up for me"

Ray hesitates for a split second and decides he's gonna throw all in.

"Plus, ok..look, you know how I feel about Chris, and god help me, you ever repeat what I'm about to say I will hunt you down and take a sledge hammer to your twig and giggle berries but, he gets this look on his face. Whenever he looks at you, whenever he's doin' one of your little errands. It's like there's no one else in the world to him and even now, even after years of knowing you and years of us 'knowing' each other. He still gets that look. It drives me bloody insane"

Sam can't help it. He physically can not stop the laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside.

"You..You're...You're JEALOUS!"

Ray snarls and takes another drag on his fag, "I warned you Tyler.."

Sam trains his features into something resembling under control and nudges Ray's knee with his foot, "Idiot!"

"What!"

Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, Sam tries to explain.

"Raymond Carling, do you have any idea how much Chris looks up to you. He adores the bloody ground you bloody walk on. He always has. Look, the moment I got here I got it. I got you two. Even before you did probably and I'll tell you something, if I twigged it, so did Gene. I've never seen a man more devoted to another man. No scratch that. I've never seen human being so devoted to another human being"

"Oh"

"Yea. And as for the policing methods. It's just me Ray, it's not you. You knew how to survive in 1973 Manchester. I didn't. I'd...I'd forgotten. I was doing what I knew to be right. I wasn't picking on you in any way. Fucking hell I've given the Guv more crap than I have anyone else. I suppose he just takes it out on me in a different way tha...

"Too much info Boss!"

Sam swipes the bottle out of Ray's hands and grins, "Sorry"

Ray sucks in a big breath and says something he never thought he'd say, out loud, and specifically not to Sam Tyler.

"Truce?"

Sam weighs up the merits of what Ray's asking, the truth behind his eyes, and thrusts his hand out, "Truce"

They shake, they drink, they smoke, they laugh. They finally figure out that neither one is the enemy. And, eventually when they get out of here, they will get their own back.

But, until then, they're content to share daft stories about the men they lo..the men they share their lives with and enjoy each other's company for the first time in over 7 years.

One thing's for sure though, Gene and Chris are gonna regret this.

Sam and Ray are evil separately.

Together, they could take over the world!


	14. At a price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray goes to the only people he knows can help

"Ray, I'm not jokin' I've had enough of your bullshit. I'm not goin' to take a simple 'NO' as an answer anymore"

It goes against everything Chris has ever said, done and felt but right now he is seriously contemplating leaving. If Ray won't even entertain an idea that means so much to his partner then why should he stay?

He understands that it's a bloody huge thing. For a normal couple it's huge, for a gay couple in the 80's it's soddin' monumental. That doesn't mean they aren't capable. If only Ray'd stop being so god damned pig headed!

"C'mon Chris, please. This is daft. We're a couple o' fellas. The crap we'd take..."

White hot rage sluices down Chris spine, seeps its way inside every single synapse and piece of sinew, "I DON'T CARE"

"Please..."

"No, that's it. I'm gone. We've been a 'two' for so long now I can't even remember what it was like to be a one, but I swear on the Boss's bony white arse, if you can't even try and understand why I want this so much then I will walk away"

Chris turns and walks out of the house without a backward glance, and Ray's insides very nearly become his outsides.

The thought of his life without Chris in it is enough for him to start convulsively gagging on thin air, "Wait! Chris, wait please, ok I...I'll..Just gimme some time"

Chris looks back over his shoulder, left eyebrow buried in his hairline and shakes his head, "You've had time 'mondo and I've tried every angle to get you to understand what it is I'm askin'. Look, I'm just goin' to the Arms. Need some space and a pint. Figure it out Ray, or I will pack my stuff, end of..."

~  
~  
~  
~

 

Gene is very close to what Sam affectionately calls 'the vinegar stroke' when there's a hesitant knock on the flat door.

"Who the fuck is...nargg, Sammy boy if you stop what you're doin' I swear to almighty god I will hurt you!"

Two fingers buried deep inside Gene, lips locked firmly round his twitching cock, Sam crooks the tips of his fingers slightly to the left and Gene unravels completely. Grinning round Gene's slowly subsiding erection, he hollows his cheeks, sucks him completely dry and lets the now flaccid piece of flesh fall gently from his mouth.

"Get that shall I?"

"Christ Tyler, lemme get me kecks back up first"

Scrabbling to his feet, Gene hastily pulls his trousers up and has just about buttoned them when Sam opens the door.

Leaning heavily against the doorframe is Ray, eyes red rimmed and puffy, chewing on his lip and making a visible effort not to cry.

"Carling, you alright?"

"Not really Boss. Mind if I come in?"

Sam steps aside and allows Ray to stumble in before shutting the door.

One look at Ray's face is all Gene needs to know something is very wrong. First indicator would be Ray does not cry. Ray beats things up, he throws things, he's even been known to break his own toe on a file cabinet in order not to give in to being a 'Girly Div'.

"What's up?"

"It's...it's..."

It's no good, he's tried, he's fought all the way over here. He'd promised himself he would not lose it in front of the Guv and Tyler, but he can't hold it in any longer.

Ray collapses in a heap in the middle of Sam and Gene's front room, sobbing and rocking.

To Gene's surprise, it's Sam who manages to make it to the broken looking man first.

Gene'll never get used to those two actually being more than just mutual punching bags. It's down right bloody scary some days. Since they've become friends they've even started ganging up on him and Chris. Very scary.

"Hey Ray, what's wrong, it's not Chris, there's nothing...he's alright, right!"

Attempting some semblance of normal, Ray wipes an already snot covered hand across his face and nods, "S'nothin' like that Boss"

Sitting himself down in front of Ray cross legged, like a bony pixie, Sam motions for Gene to join them and tries to figure out how to handle a Ray on the edge.

He's clearly close to breaking point, Sam's never seen him like this. He's seen him angry, he seen him sad, he's even seen him happy, so happy he doesn't know how to do anything but smile. He's never seen him in the process of shattering.

Gene pulls an armchair up close to the odd couple sitting on the floor and settles in, "Then what's wrong!"

"I'm an idiot Guv"

Sam clamps down on the urge to laugh and simply states the obvious, "Ray, mate, we knew that"

Sneering, he realises if even when he's so down he doesn't know where up is and Sam Tyler can STILL get a rise out of him, then there must be hope. Ray calms himself a little. Wipes his eyes on his jacket sleeve and straightens himself up.

"Chris wants kids..."

Well hell, that was definitely not what Gene was expecting and from the really comically stunned look on Sammy's face, it wasn't what he was thinking either.

"Umm, Ray..What?"

Crossing his legs so that his and Sam's knees are almost touching, Ray puts his head in his hands and tries to explain a concept that is still confusing the living hell out of him, let alone anyone else.

"He's been on about it for a couple of months now. Kept just droppin' hints to start with. Then they stopped being hints and started bein' real questions. 'Why not?' ...'What's wrong with me, don't you love me!'... "

Gene can see how hard this is for the man balled up on the floor, emptying his heart and soul out on the cord carpet for both his superiors to see, and he takes pity and throws a spare hip flask into Ray's lap.

"Cheers Guv. Christ, how'd it get so complicated? I mean s'not like we ain't already tryin' to swim up river as it is. We're ravin' bloody fairies for god's sake. What more does he want! Me to paint a sign on my forehead 'We're queer, we're here and we're gonna breed little steers' "

Sam can't help it, that one was funny, even for Ray. Chuckling, Sam lays a hand on Ray's knee, marvels at how the other man doesn't beat seven shades of shite out of him for it and asks the obvious question, "Do you want kids?"

"No..Yes, maybe. Oh I don't fuckin' know. Do I like the idea of a little Chris runnin' around callin' me daddy and bein' all div an' adorable? Yea, actually I do. Would I like to be able to hold a child of my own? Flesh and blood. A little mix of me and my soppy git partner. Yes. Most definitely. But..."

Sam looks to Gene who nods, knowing that even if the friendship between Sam and Ray is newer than the one between him and Ray, the questions and answers will come better from the younger man.

"But?"

"But, we're blokes. Our lives are hard enough. Look, I'm not completely daft. I know if we weren't coppers, we'd have it even harder. If we didn't have you two and the squad then we'd probably 'ave no one. But that doesn't mean the thought of making it even harder isn't bloody terrifyin''"

"Believe it or not Ray, same sex couples will kinda be all the rage in a few years, trust me"

"That's in a few years Sam. I've gotta deal with the hear an' now"

Finally looking up, Ray sees two sets of concerned and sympathetic eyes trying to figure out how to help and coming up empty, "S'not really your problem is it?"

Gene tilts his head and stares at Ray for a fraction of a second before answering in the only way he knows how.

"Carling, to my shame, you'll always be my problem, you and that poof you're shacked up with"

That's as close to a declaration as Gene's ever gonna get and Ray takes a little comfort from it.

"What am I gonna do?"

Sam sighs, shakes his head and taps Ray on the knee, "Take a leap of faith"

Off Ray's confused look, Sam presses on, or he would of, if Gene hadn't jumped in first.

"Raymond Carling. You listen to me. I am gonna take it that the reason you are in such a bloody pathetic state is 'cos this really means enough to Chris for him to make a decision neither one of you is gonna be able to live with, right?"

"Yea. He's gonna leave. And I'm gonna fall apart. Simple"

Screwing his eyes shut, Gene tutts and wonders with amazement how Ray manages to get up and tie his shoes first thing in the morning.

"You're a daft git Ray. You just said you want kids. Okay so the thought of you two managing to raise a couple of carpet crawlers is a tad on the fright'nin' side, but believe me, if we can imagine it, and not bring up our lunches then the rest of Manchester will jus' 'ave to put up with it"

"But Guv.."

"No, you love him. And, you wanna do everythin' in your power to make him 'appy, so GET OVER YOURSELF"

Running a hand up the back of Sam's shirt, letting it rest at the nape of his neck, Gene forges on, "If you manage to find someone, anyone, male, female, bloody goat, that for one moment makes you feel like the man you've been trying to become your entire life, Don't let it go! It's taken some of us a damn sight longer than it should to come to that little realisation and what am I for if not to mould and teach. Learn from other's mistakes Ray. Take what you got, grab it with both hands and hang on for dear life 'cos shit like this don't come up every day. We don't get second chances often and if you're battin' for a third you'll end up disappointed and alone"

Leaning into Gene's warmth, Sam nods his head and looks Ray in the eye, "Go on you daft bastard, what you waiting for. Go and make it right"

~  
~  
~  
~

Ray walks in to find Chris sat in the dark, glass of scotch clasped between his fingers.

Kneeling between his lovers feet, cupping his chin and bringing his face up level, Ray places one soft kiss on Chris's lips and nods his head, "Okay, I'm sorry. Some things are too good to let end and some things are too daft an idea not to try"

Chris throws the glass of amber liquid over Ray's shoulder, slides off the sofa into Ray's waiting arms and squeezes so tight he almost pops a rib, "Thank you!"

"Oi, you're changin' the shitty nappies lad, I'm far too old for the nastier side of babysittin'"


	15. Running the gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revenge of the cold callers least enthused victims

As usual, Ray's got his hands full. Jeanie's still hollering at the top of her lungs, making him wish he'd suddenly go deaf and now there's some inconsiderate bugger knocking on their door, "Chris!"

Chris is as much use as a chocolate teapot when Jeanie's in this state. He keeps bleating on about hospitals and Doctors. Ray knows it's just a bit of colic and she'll be fine. He should know, he's been around enough ankle biters. The wonders of having a big family.

Ray bounces her in his arms and hears the door go again, this time more insistent. It's in no way polite and reminds him of the Guv but it isn't him 'cos he'd just come straight through it. "Chris, get the friggin' door"

"I'm in the bath"

Soddin' great! He don't half know how to pick his bloody moments. Fine, Ray'll get it, the same way he gets every other fuckin' thing. Exactly who's idea was this kids business, oh yea that's right, div head's.

Ray tells himself to remember to give Chris a kick in the arse later and heads for the door, unhappy child balanced on his hip.

He's about to open it when whoever it is pounds the wood again, this one threatens to come straight through and he yanks the door open. The person on the other side falls forward slightly, almost tumbling into the house.

There's a pale looking limp wristed sod staring at Ray, brief case in one hand, clipboard in the other, "What!"

Despite Ray's gruffness, the bloke pastes a sickly smile on his face, lowers the briefcase to the floor and shoves his hand out, obviously expecting Ray to shake it.

When Ray just stands there, eyeing the limb like he'll break it off, he retracts his arm and launches into his schpeel, "Hello, I'm Mr Santy and I've come to give you the opportunity of a lifetime"

The look on Ray's face blatantly says he very much doubts it, "Uhuh"

Mr Santy is obviously pretty used to stressed hubbies, so he completely ignores Ray's intentional rudeness and the way he's giving him the hairy eyeball. Instead of taking the hint and pissing off, he gamely continues, "Have you heard of 'Wonder Broom' Mr..."

Jeanie's now gurgling and hissing against Ray's shoulder so he shifts her round a bit and starts massaging her back. Sure enough, after a few minutes, she coughs and throws up all down the back of his shirt. Wonderful.

He's so busy trying to ignore the wet sticky mess soaking into his back that he's forgotten he's got an audience and said audience is waiting for a response, "Oh, Carling. Mr Carling"

Mr Pain-in-the-arse reaches out and chucks Jeanie under the chin, "Oh she's adorable, what's her name?"

Saying absolutely nothing, Ray lets his eyes travel the length of the arm. Starting at the wrist and finishing at the shoulder, the meaning is clear; 'move it or lose it', so Mr Santy hastily retracts the fingers still pinching Jeanie's cheek and clears his throat.

"Urm, so, yes, I'm here, Mr Carling, to offer you the latest in household innovations"

Levelling his gaze on the man now shifting from left to right and pulling at his badly fitting suit jacket, Ray pulls out the look reserved for those scum bags stupid enough to get themselves caught. He narrows his eyes and bares his teeth, making his moustache twitch and stretch into a thin line. It's unsettling enough for the idiots they pull in, Ray hopes it's scary as hell for this piss ant.

Finally, Ray's unwelcoming behaviour penetrates his task orientated attitude and polished performance piece. He thinks it might be easier to chat to this guy's wife, "Is..is the lady of the house at home?"

Ray grunts, turns away from the unwanted visitor and hollers down the hall, "Chris, get your arse out 'ere! Someone wants to speak to you"

Completely appalled at the way Mr Carling's speaking to his wife, Mr Santy lowers his face to his shoes and avoids eye contact.

Ray turns back to the prat and stares at him, "Be out in a minute", then he stomps off back into the house.

Mr S hears footfalls and plasters the smile back on his face. He brings his head up, comes face to face with a skinny bloke wearing a towel round his waist and one on his head. The shock must register on his features because 'Chris' narrows his eyes, grins sweetly and says, "Yes, how may I be of assistance?"

"Urm, uh, well, Mr..Mr Carling said, urm..Are you Mrs Carling?"

Chris bites his lip, flutters his eyelashes and readjusts the towel slipping off his hips "You could say that"

"Oh, ur, never...never mind, I can see you're busy. I'll umm..I'll just.."

He picks up his briefcase and practically runs down the front path, not stopping to close the gate on his way out. Chris laughs, shuts the door and turns to Ray who's finally got Jeanie to stop crying, "You cheeky sod. Mrs Carling?"

Ray grins, swings the baby in his arms and says, "Well I certainly ain't the girly one am I...Speakin' of, what are you doin' with a bleedin' towel wrapped round your hair?"

*******************

Sam's walking behind Gene, watching the way his trousers slide over his backside. He's got the most glorious view and doesn't notice that the arse in question's stopped until he almost barrels into it.

Looking up, checking to see what's caught Gene's attention, Sam sees a snot nosed little oik carrying a clipboard and a handful of leaflets.

Oh great, not again!

It's bad enough they've had to come out and get Gene a new pair of shoes 'cos he's worn these ones to death, now Sam's gotta watch while Gene takes some poor unsuspecting kid to pieces. Although, it's really their own fault. If they will accost you in the street, what do they expect?

This one's being particularly smug and Sam's actually looking forward to what's about to happen. Usually he'll hang back, let Gene have his fun while he affects a disapproving air. Today, he thinks he might have to join in.

Gene's already in full swing, being nice, well as nice as he ever is, and shaking the guys arm off. He's got one of the kids pale hands clasped in his large one and isn't about to let go any time soon.

Sam sidles up next to Gene and taps him on the shoulder, "Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend?"

Gene turns, grins then points at the kid, still jabbering on "This is Felix, Felix is a charity canvasser, aren't you Felix?"

Felix finally notices Sam and beams a megawatt smile at him "Yea, I was just explaining to Mr Hunt about..."

Gene cuts across him, "Oh, you don't have to explain it to Sammy boy, he's up for giving money to any old thing, ain't you Sam?"

Sam feigns wide eyed concern and nods. He's biting his lip to stop from laughing and looking between Gene and Felix.

Gene's still shaking the poor blokes hand and he hasn't even noticed yet...he will.

He watches for Gene's signal, waits for him to turn slightly then falls into step as they carry on up the high street, Felix still firmly clasped in Gene's right hand.

The guy must be completely soft cos he still hasn't noticed they're now moving and he's lost a limb. Too intent on getting his point across, he's smiling sweetly, flashing big pearly whites at them both.

"As I was saying, this is all in aid of the minority blonde population. They've had enough of being ridiculed for their hair colour, all they want is to be taken seriously. With your help, we can buy enough dye to help them become what they truly believe they are, brunette's"

Sam's literally biting his tongue to stop himself from breaking out in giggles. He can see Gene's struggling to keep a straight face aswell but doesn't want to ruin the mood so he looks past Gene to Felix, "Oh I know, Gene here, he gets that's problem all the time. His potential is totally overlooked. Poor man"

Gene eyes Sam, gives him a look that clearly says 'You're enjoying this far too much!' then turns his attention back to the guy trotting at his side and trying to remove his by now sweaty hand from Gene's rigid one.

He's finally figured out they are in fact moving. He can see one of his colleagues getting smaller and smaller as he's dragged up the road.

Sam can see the cogs turning, he's trying to work out a way of removing his hand without either losing the tag or being rude.

Gene's still pumping the guy's wrist enthusiastically and bobbing his head.

Sam's having to look at his feet to stop from giving in and pissing himself.

They've managed to make it half way up the high street. Sam can see a Barclays, Bowmans and a Clarks. An idea starts to form, sneaking up and rooting itself in his brain. Smirking, turning to Gene and laying a hand on his free arm, he nods towards the shoe shop, "Don't forget, we've still gotta get you something for your feet"

Gene narrows his eyes, looks at the shop then back to Sam and smiles, "Oh yea, forgot about that. Okay then, lets go see if we can't find me something comfy"

They take a sharp right, almost toppling Felix and head into Clarks.

Felix is waddling backwards, twisting his neck, craning to make sure he doesn't fall on his arse. He's actually pulling his arm really hard now, trying to wrench himself free. Gene's steely grip is too much and he's going no where.

Finally, after the third pair of shoes Sam's placed on Gene's feet, he plucks up the courage to beg for his hand back, "Uh, you think I could, I've gotta get back and..well, could I have my hand back Mr Hunt"

Gene plasters a totally innocent expression on his face and looks at him like he hasn't got a single clue what he's on about, "What, oh but I thought...you see, we've got this cupboard at 'ome right, an' it's full of fellas just like you. Although it's gettin' a bit cramped now, been havin' to just take the hands and throw 'em in a box. I thought p'raps you'd like to come back, you know visit. Might be someone there you know"

Felix looks like he might actually cry, his eyes are wide and scared and his bottom lip is quivering slightly.

Sam's desperately trying to keep his features schooled. Whilst removing yet another pair of shoes from Gene's feet, he looks up and nods, "Oh yea, that's a good idea. Haven't had visitors in a while. We might have to clean the place up a bit though, all that blood, just says 'bad housekeepers'. Don't want Felix here having to sit in anything smelly, do we?"

Gene shakes his head and looks to Felix who's now physically shaking and seriously contemplating screaming for help, "What d'ya think mate, fancy coming back, or have you finished?"

Felix nods his head hard and stares, petrified, at their joined hands.

Gene uncurls his fingers, causing Felix to fall back into a rack of stilettos. He scrabbles to his feet and legs it out into the street.

Gene shouts after him, "Have a nice day!" and Sam ends up in a heap on the floor, tears of unrepentant glee coursing down his cheeks.


	16. Reach out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stubborness isn't an attractive quality

It's a beautiful day, they're walking side by side in Philps park and Sam can't help the lazy grin. It's all perfect, maybe too perfect. He wonders if one night he'll go to sleep and wake to it all having been a dream.

He'll be living in a dull grey world, wearing a dull grey suit, living a dull grey life. The thought makes him shudder despite the sun dappling the floor.

Gene's wittering on about something as usual, insulting him and calling him girly names. Nothing changes, nothing ever changes and he's really rather glad it doesn't.

He can feel Gene's shoulder bumping against his own, their elbows keep knocking together and Sam's almost reached for Gene's hand twice now.

Ok, not completely perfect. If he's honest, he wishes Gene'd just agree to 'coming out' already. Half the squad know. It's been obvious for a while, so why won't he just get on and start acting like Sam's his...'boyfriend' doesn't sound right but Sam supposes that's what he is.

Life partner, heterosexual life mate, no wait that's a film and they aren't heterosexual anyway. Lover, best friend, person who knows the other best in the whole world. He's all of those and more. Boyfriend just sounds too small.

It'd be one thing if they could keep work and home separate, but they can't. They end up groping in some corner, humping away, oblivious to the people whispering out in the corridor.

He gets jealous whenever Sam flirts with a witness, male or female, ends up making some aggressive show of ownership, so why can't he just stop all this macho man bollocks and start acting like they're a couple?

Sam was quite content to let him go at his own pace for the first, oh two years, but now it's bordering on ridiculous. They drink together, spend time together, drive to work together. Couldn't really make it any more obvious if they shagged on Ray's desk. Yet Gene continues to keep up his 'act'.

They're surrounded by people, old, young, other couples and lone walkers just taking in the day. Perhaps now's the time he should make a stand, take the decision out of Gene's hands. Might be risky, Gene's unpredictable on a good day, Sam thinks he might end up with boot marks on his arse for a week.

Thing is, if they can get past the whole 'I'm not a fairy' attitude in public, it'd probably do them both some good. It's not like there aren't gay couples copping off all over the station. Only yesterday Sam'd walked in on Suzie from records snogging Lilly from the front desk and he's pretty sure Ray and Chris have been going at it for years.

That thought makes him shudder. The imagery alone is enough to scar him for life. Oh, that 'tache and those 'brows, freaky.

Gene's still rambling, gesturing wildly with one hand and punctuating every word with a stab of a finger. Bless him he does get so het up.

It's now or never.

Sam shifts his wrist slightly, twisting his hand and links his fingers with Gene's.

It takes him a second but when he notices what Sam's done, Gene's shoulders stiffen and his eyes go impossibly wide.

"What are ya doin'? Ger'off"

Sam doesn't answer him, merely tugs on his hand and tries to get him moving again.

Gene remains rooted to the spot, completely stiff, then he yanks his hand out of Sam's.

Sam sighs, reverses until they're stood shoulder to shoulder again and slips his fingers into Gene's once more.

Again Gene's whole body stiffens, his eyes search the surrounding area for any signs of people pointing, staring or brandishing pitchforks. He lifts their joined hands and shakes his wrist violently, flattening his fingers out, trying to rid himself of Sam's grip.

Sam obstinately refuses to let go, holds on as tight as possible, tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

Gene's shaking his entire arm now, wobbling it from the shoulder down, desperately trying to loosen Sam's hand from his.

"Get off"

"No"

Sam can see it coming, there's a spark in Gene's eyes. It's mostly anger but there's something far more dangerous behind it. Fear.

Fear makes you do stupid things. It makes you kill, makes you maim, makes you punch the man you love, in the face, because you are so frightened of being seen as anything less than you are.

Gene keeps wrenching at Sam's wrist, yanking his hand left and right, when that doesn't work he pulls his free hand back and lands a punch to Sam's jaw that rattles teeth. Sam's head snaps left, his neck audibly 'cracks' and he has to fight with gravity to stay on his feet but he still doesn't let go of Gene's hand.

Gene stares at their joined hands incredulously. Sam's got a split lip and is spitting blood but he hasn't let go, why won't he let go?

Sam straightens up, turns his head back towards Gene and raises an eyebrow.

"Finished?"

Gene's eyes are wild now, he looks like a bear caught in a trap, he's panicking, that much Sam can tell. He pulls and pushes at Sam, makes his fingers go rigid and physically holds Sam's wrist while he puts all his weight into wrenching his fingers away.

It doesn't work, Sam is still refusing to relinquish his hold on Gene.

They're spinning, twirling like a couple of mad marionettes. Gene's dizzy and he's close to heaving up but Sam won't give in, won't let him go.

They fight, one handed. Matching each other blow for blow.

Gene smacks Sam in the gut, watches him double up, fighting for breath.

Sam shoots a foot out, catching him on the kneecap, almost making him topple over.

Gene latches onto Sam's collar and wrenches him upright, choking him. Brings him to eye level and spits at him "Fuckin' let go"

Sam brings his forehead down on Gene's cheek and hisses "No!"

Gene falls backwards, taking Sam with him. Sam hears Gene's head thud against the floor and throws both hands out to break his fall, finally letting go of Gene.

They lay still for a moment catching their breath, listening to the sounds of children playing in the distance.

Sam eventually pushes himself to his feet. Mindful not to put a foot in Gene's ribs. He stands for a minute, staring down at Gene who's glaring back at him defiantly.

He pushes a hand towards Gene, waggles his fingers at him and raise both eyebrows.

Gene hesitates for a second then grabs at Sam's outstretched hand.

Sam hauls him to his feet and turns away ready to continue their walk as if nothing's happened. He feels Gene tug him backwards, almost off his feet, again.

Sam flicks his gaze over his shoulder and sees Gene staring at their hands, still clasped, and watches as he tangles their fingers together. Puts a digit between every one of Sam's.

Finally Gene looks up, eyes narrowed, and mutters "Bastard" under his breath.

Sam simply smiles and tightens his grip.


	17. Chances missed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Godfatherly duties

Sam watches Gene cradle Jeanie, Ray and Chris's first born, and feels a momentary flash of guilt. As he offers her his little finger to tug on and pulls crazy faces just to make her giggle, Sam wonders if perhaps they've made a mistake.

Does Gene want this?

Gene'd spent years married to a beautiful, kind and caring woman and still he'd remained childless and Sam's never bothered to ask why. That might be because he doesn't want to think about Gene with anyone else, it might just be because it never really came up. Whatever the reason, Sam's wishing he'd made the effort because right now he's petrified that somewhere along the line, he's managed to miss something important about his lover.

They could've simply decided that due to the demands of Gene's job, parenting possibly wasn't the best idea but Sam doesn't know that and he's not sure how willing he is to take it on trust that Gene isn't feeling broody.

Sounds silly really, especially seen as Gene's now fifty three years old and a little long in the tooth but Sam can just see him with a child of his own, flesh and blood to hold and protect and nurture. In fact, Sam's extremely sad that Gene's not had that chance because he thinks he'd be the perfect parent; over bearing, over protective but always there for his son or daughter.

Furthering your name is what comes naturally to any man, any woman for that matter. The instinct to survive takes precedent over everything else in a person's life, that's the way mother nature intended it. What if Gene's finally figured out that his name dies with him?

This isn't the first time his partner's interacted with someone under two foot tall but it's the first time Sam's seriously thought about whether or not Gene would've been better off without him. It may be a radical interpretation of the text but it's an easy step in his head.

If Gene'd stayed with his wife, they may eventually have had kids, he'd have been a father.

If he'd left his wife, even without Sam's constant harping on the subject, then he might've found himself a good woman to settle down with, built himself a life and a family.

The insertion of Sam into Gene's life meant that the chance to carry on his name had been all but a lost cause.

Okay, they're currently baby sitting for an openly gay couple but Chris and Ray are completely different animals to Gene and Sam.

This - the white picket fence and two point four kids, it just never seemed like an option. Too many commitments for them to find some random slapper to knock up.

Sam closes his eyes and can see Gene trying to change his first nappy, he blinks and the picture mutates into one of a girl of about sixteen looking nervous whilst introducing her first boyfriend to her quite frankly frightening father.

Shaking his head to try and clear his mind, Sam can't help grinning at the thought of Gene brandishing his pistol and threatening castration to whoever tried to date his teenage daughter.

Gene would slip into the role of father so well that Sam's worried he might've inadvertently buggered up something for his partner that would've made him truly happy.

Despite the fact that they've both been married and had ample opportunity to become parents yet neither of them ever grabbed the chance when they could, Sam's still over thinking the whole thing. It should be enough that Gene didn't have kids during his long marriage to put his over active imagination at ease, but it's not.

The question is, does Sam want this?

The answer's simple, if Gene wants it, Sam'll go with it.

That's the way it's been for years, no matter the situation, where his Guv'nor leads, he follows. If Gene turned round and admitted he wanted kids, Sam'd quite happily start going through their list of ladies willing to help them out. It's kind of pitiful but why change the habits of a lifetime?

Sam smiles at Gene as Jeanie starts yanking on stray strands of greying hair. They paint such an adorable picture, the tiny tear away infant and her rough around the edges whiskey swilling protector.

He's still trying to come up with a way of broaching the subject when he hears a key in the lock and Chris's dulcet tones floating down the hallway.

The change in Gene is instantaneous, he goes from cooing godfather to scared man mountain in two seconds flat and practically shoves Jeanie back into Chris's outstretched arms before he's made it fully into the front room.

"Thank Christ for tha', didn't know if I could keep tha' up much longer. Don't take this the wrong way Skelton but she's a bloody handful. Wouldn't know what to do with one of me own"

Chris runs a hand through Jeanie's soft blonde curls and drops a gentle kiss against her forehead before looking up at Gene who's on his feet, in his coat and puffing energetically on a fag.

"So, you not up for one of ya own then, Guv?"

"Shit no, I love kids jus' so long as I can give 'em back when they start leakin' and screamin'"

Sam splutters, gets to his feet and turns away from his friends before they can see the slightly dazed, very embarrassed look he knows he's got on his face.

"You alright, Dorothy?"

Grinning, shaking his head and marvelling at Gene's ability to make him over think every little thing, Sam turns and runs a finger down Jeanie's cheek, "Never better. Chris, you ever need us to baby sit again, just give us a shout"

Ignoring the way Gene huffs indignantly, Sam spins on his heel and walks out.


	18. Saving grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgiveness isn't earnt, it's a grace

Normal day. Any old day. No different than the one before it.

Nothing spectacular going on, no blags or shouts to speak of.

Sam's just wandering down Market Street, thinking on what exactly it is he's gonna cook for dinner as it's his turn, again. It's always his bloody turn. Gene may have aged a little, but he's still a sneaky tart when it comes to the house work.

Shaking his head and smirking, Sam catches a flash of tan cord out the corner of his eye, and finds himself looking at the back of someone he never thought he'd ever see again.

It can't be. I mean, ok it could be... No one's seen her in over a decade. No one that's said anything to Sam any ways.

But, yea, it's definitely her, definitely the same curve of the neck, same slight wave then kink at the bottom of her hair.

She's holding the hand of a child, hard to tell from the back but Sam thinks the kid's gotta be at least 8 years old. Something about the set of his shoulders tells Sam that the boy, how ever old he actually is, is most definitely hers.

On the scale of stupid things Sam's ever done, this is right up there, but he can't help himself. They're disappearing round the corner of a singer sewing shop and out of sight and Sam feels if he doesn't say something now, it could well be another 10 years before he gets the chance again.

Taking off at a run, Sam skids round the same corner just in time to see her straighten up after tying the boy's shoelace.

Heaving for breath and shaking, Sam plasters on his best negotiator's smile and goes for broke, "Annie!"

The look in Annie's eyes is enough to freeze molten steel. It's so vitriolic that Sam takes an instinctive step back.

"Go away Sam"

Squaring her shoulders, she takes the boy's hand and goes to walk away.

Despite Sam's better judgement (hah!) he reaches out and places a stilling hand on her elbow, "Please"

Peering over her shoulder, eyes narrowed, Annie sighs and resigns herself to having to talk to him. She's spent a good long while working Sam Tyler out of her system. She thought she'd done bloody well at avoiding him aswell. Sod's Law.

"What, Sam?"

Sam steels himself for what could be a very messy conversation, in broad daylight, in front of everybody wandering the streets. Maybe not such a great idea after all.

"I...I just...urmm"

In spite of the fact Annie could quite happily have the ground open up and swallow her, she smirks. Same old Sam.

"Deep breaths Tyler"

Her casual use of his name seems to calm him a little and he manages to gather himself enough to stop his face turning purple, "Ho...how are you?"

Giving in and turning fully to face him, Annie admits defeat and decides that she's spent long enough avoiding the spectre of her ex husband and his overbearing boyfriend.

"I'm good. I'm really good Sam."

Sam's breathing has almost reached normal and he's trying to figure out what to say when the little boy still clasping Annie's hand tugs on the side of her skirt, "Ma, who's he?"

Shaking herself, Annie peers down at the lad, love and affection clearly shining through her chocolate brown eyes, "This is Sam"

Nodding towards Sam, Annie squeezes the boy's hand, "Say hello Jimmy"

Looking up at Sam, he grins, a big toothy smile full of gaps, "Hello Jimmy"

Annie tutts, laughs and gives him a light tap round the ear, "Behave, or no treacle tart"

Stubbing his toe into the ground, effecting a very pious pose, the boy clasps his hands behind his back, "Sorry Ma.

"Oh at least pretend properly Jim, ok go and have a look in the record shop, I'll be there in a minute"

Smirking and nodding, the boy runs off across the street and disappears inside his favourite music shop.

Sam watches him disappear and then turns back to Annie, "He's a cheeky sod isn't he?"

"Hark at who's talkin'. But, yea, he's definitely his dad's boy"

Sam's not sure whether he should ask or not but the words are out his mouth before his brain's kicked in properly, "Who is his...urmmm"

Annie's whole demeanour changes, she softens and the laughter lines around her still lovely eyes show exactly how much she's smiled since Sam's seen her last.

That comforts Sam a tiny bit. At least someone's been making her smile.

"His James Jonathan Jenkins"

Sam's confusion is evident on his always readable face, "Jenkins... as in P.C Jenkins?"

Nodding, Annie can't help the giggle, "Yep, that's him, although he's DC Jenkins now"

"But, he left, well he left the nick"

Shaking her head and sighing Annie puts her hands in her skirt pockets and rocks back and forward gently on the balls of her feet, "No Sam, he left CID, he transferred to Serious Crimes Squad, around about the same time I decided I couldn't look at you and Gene anymore"

"Oh"

The mention of his partner makes Sam feel as though this conversation may be a betrayal, of sorts. Stupid, he knows, but of all the people Gene'd like to know that Sam's talking to, Annie is most definitely top of that list.

Sam can see it now, he'll tell Gene he's seen her and Gene will lock down on his emotions, just not quite quick enough for Sam to miss the small spark of jealousy.

Age has not mellowed the man as much as Sam would've thought.

She's not sure she even wants to know the answer, not sure it'll do her any good at all, but she asks regardless, "So, still with him then?"

Sam feels it may be a tad rude, a tad nasty, like rubbing salt in an open wound, but he can't help the soft grin playing about his lips, "Yea, still 'together'"

"Good"

Sam almost falls off his Cuban heels, "Wha..."

Laughing, Annie takes pity and decides it's about time she told him that she's let it go. She had to. If she'd kept allowing the hurt and hatred to rattle round her brain she'd have gone insane. More insane than Sam.

"Sam, I'm honestly ok with it. Look, don't get me wrong. For a good few years all I wanted to do was cut the crotch out of all your trousers, with you still inside"

Sam winces and then smiles at a long forgotten memory that's slowly resurfacing, "Huh, turns out all Manchester lasses are the same, no matter the age"

Confused Annie tilts her head at him.

"Mrs Hunt, she...well let's just say she redesigned the Guv's entire wardrobe when she found out why and who he was leaving her for"

"Oh!" Breaking into a fit of giggles, Annie can't stop herself imagining Gene pawing through his ruined collection of stripy dress shirts and ironed in creased trousers, "Didn't get the coat did she?"

"No, he was wearing it, luckily"

This is surreal. Lovely, unexpected certainly, but still, bloody surreal.

Here he is, chatting to Annie as if the last 17 years haven't happened. Like they're still sat in the canteen, having a laugh and a joke about how over bearing and annoying Gene can be.

Like he didn't rip her insides out with a rusty fish hook.

He finds himself feeling a little lighter round the edges as Annie doubles up in fits of giggles.

Straightening up, Annie looks across to the record shop and checks her watch, "Look Sam, I gotta go"

Reality filters back in and he's no longer younger, with more hair and the weight of the world on his shoulders, "Oh right, yea sure."

Reaching out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm, Annie smiles, a genuine 'it's good to see you' smile, "Sam, I never thought I'd say this. Seen as I've spent the last ten odd years avoiding anywhere you might be, but, I'm happy for you. Ok, so originally I'd given you and that idiot a year, tops, but, if you're idiotic and daft enough to put up with each others bad habits and foul bloody moods, then I think you make the perfect couple"

Grinning, Sam tentatively lays a hand atop Annie's, "Thank you"

They say their goodbyes and walk off in opposite directions, but Sam can't help one last glance behind him. She looks happy. She looks good. And he, well he feels...better for seeing it.

Humming to himself, Sam slides his hands in his pockets and goes back to wondering what to cook for dinner and stops dead, "Ahh shit"

He's still gotta tell Gene that Annie says hello.

That'll be a fun conversation.


	19. Mr Blue Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belt up Gene

The doorbell goes and Sam can almost feel the nervous energy bouncing around inside his partner's head.

He can still hear Gene's reaction when he'd told him who he'd been chatting to down the high street.

"Annie, ANNIE, as in your ex plonk!"

He'd shook his head, sat down in an arm chair and waited for Gene to snide himself out. After all, he'd known Gene wouldn't be too happy. Apparently he'd underestimated the amount of time Gene'd been worrying about Sam ever running into Annie again.

"Yes Gene, Annie. You know, brunette, brown eyes, 'bout yay high"

Whirling on his partner, Gene'd balled his hands into fists and snarled at him, "I bloody well KNOW who you mean Tyler, so, find anything fun to talk about with the ex squeeze?"

Sighing, Sam'd rested his head on one hand and just looked at the man almost spinning himself off his feet, "Gene, calm down. It's not like we saw each other in the street and decided we'd made a huge mistake. We just talked"

"About what!"

Leaning back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest, Sam'd smiled which just served to infuriate his lover more.

"Her, us, you and me"

Gene'd thrown himself down on the sofa and motioned with the tips of his fingers, "Stop bein' so bloody vague Tyler!"

"You know, it doesn't matter how many years we've been at it like bunnies, you still revert to calling me Tyler when you're in a pissy"

Huffing, Gene'd glared at Sam and bared his teeth, "I'm not IN a pissy, Sam!"

Laughing gently, Sam'd decided to let Gene off for once and explained about the little meeting.

"She's got a boy you know, a lad about 8. His names Jimmy"

That'd brought Gene's anger up short, "Really?"

"Yea, with P.C Jenkins"

"What as in 'has trouble tying his own shoes and wiping his own nose Jenkins', but he left"

"Apparently he just transferred, to SCS. We appear to have an issue with noticing anything other than our own sordid little happenings"

It'd taken Sam a week or two, but he'd finally plucked up the courage to do a little detecting and had dug out Annie's phone number. Despite Gene's unwillingness to have her in their lives, Sam'd insisted that he wasn't gonna let her just drift out of their existence again. Not after all the crap they'd put her through.

He'd phoned. They'd had coffee. They'd chatted like old times.

He'd managed to work past the fear that his presence in her life would hurt her.

She'd told him all about her own life. She was still a copper. A WDS now, although they'd long since dropped the 'W' off of women police officer's monikers she still couldn't stop herself using it.

That'd made Sam smile like an idiot. He told her that she and the Guv still had a lot in common and she'd poked her tongue out then laughed.

They'd been having the little coffee 'dates' as Gene had dubbed them for a couple of months when She'd decided she was finally brave enough to face the man that'd stolen her picket fence existence.

"So, when you going to invite me round for a drink then?"

Sam'd nearly fallen out of his chair.

So, here Sam was, waiting for Annie's arrival in their flat and watching Gene nearly turn himself inside out with the stress of it all.

The doorbell rings and Gene near enough shits himself.

Sam sighs, screws his eyes shut and makes the decision to play hard ball, "Belt up Gene! You've faced down murderers. One bloody woman shouldn't have you this nervous"

The jibe works. Sam sees Gene square his shoulders and puff out his chest and then nod towards the door, "Go on then, let 'er in"

Sam opens the door to find a smiling Annie leaning against the frame, "He a bit jumpy?"

Sam laughs and nods.

She saunters in, lays her hands on her hips and takes in the quaking pile of nerves that is Gene Hunt.

Looking him up and down once, she grins and greets him, "Hello Guv"

The use of the word Guv does something to Gene's brain and he attempts to effect a nonchalant pose, "Alright Cartwright. Still a soppy plonk, I see"

Laughing, shaking her head, she wraps her arms around the man that by rights she should want buried in the motorway footings and gives him a kiss on the cheek, "Still a total prick I see Guv"

Sam shuts the door to the sounds of Gene's indignation and Annie's laughter.

Good old Gene, can be counted on to argue he isn't an idiot even when everyone else in the room knows different.

Sam thinks the word bygones has never sounded so good.


	20. Squashed tomatoes and stew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Gene Genie, how in the hell did you reach 65!

My god, has it really been twenty two years?

Yea, it's been at least that long since they started this thing and god knows why, but they're still acting like a couple of giddy school kids. Despite the fact that Gene's just turned sixty five, in spite of the fact that they've both got white hair and wrinkles too numerous to count, Sam and Gene seem to be incapable of growing old gracefully.

It'll be a cold day in hell before Gene Hunt slows down. Sam can still see him eyeing toerags on the street and knows he's wishing he could give them a good kicking. Times may've changed, Gene definitely hasn't.

Sam can still remember the spark he felt that first time, and every time since. Age may dull the senses but not the ones that count.

They've gathered in the Railways Arms. Everyone's there; Ray, Chris, Gene's family (the ones that didn't disown him when he'd introduced Sam as his 'lifelong fuckbuddy') Sam's...well, Sam hasn't actually got any family but he's got an extended network of godchildren and 'adopted' nieces and nephews.

He was never a child person, not really. The ones he's been forced to baby sit over the years are all Chris and Ray's fault.

Those two'd shocked the living shit out of him. Ok, so he shouldn't have been surprised by their sudden need to shout it from the roof tops that they were a couple. Not after he and Gene'd gotten together, but still, Ray standing on one of the canteen tables, singing to Chris at the top of his lungs is an image Sam'll never be able to scrub from his over abused memory.

It'd taken Chris all of a month to get his arse back up to Manchester permanently and they'd moved into together, not caring about the sly comments or nasty looks. They'd said 'If the meanest man in Manchester can settle down with a bloke and not get 'is 'ead kicked in, then we sure as 'ell can'

It'd come as no surprise to Gene, him being all knowing, well that and he'd seen them shopping for curtains, put two and two together and come up trumps. He'd neglected to tell Sam, but Sam couldn't really blame him. He'd only been being loyal to his boys.

After they'd moved in together, Chris'd started making noises about kids. Ray'd almost popped a lung trying to talk him out of it but eventually he'd won him over by pouting for two months and threatening to leave.

They'd found themselves a girl of questionable ethics, there were always a few floating about in their line of work, and set about building themselves a little family.

The face on Gene, when Ray'd unceremoniously dumped his first born in his arms and informed him they were calling her Jeanie, priceless. He'd been on the verge of tears for the next twenty four hours. Blaming sinus's and allergies hadn't fooled anyone and Chris'd ripped the piss ever since about the Guv just being a big ol' sissy.

Can you imagine, Chris and Ray as parents, shit. Scary prospect but they'd done a surprisingly good job of raising children. Sam's as proud of them now as he was then, even if they'd done it arse about face. They've got three kids, Jeanie, Lissy and Mack. They're a mix of Chris's DNA and Ray's. Sam can see traces of both his friends laced through out them and it scrambles his brains. He never did brave asking which one of them fathered which. Some things you just don't need to know.

Who'd have thought, Ray and Sam, friends. Actual life long friends. The amount of times they'd almost killed each other, Sam thinks perhaps it was their shared taste in preferred partners that'd managed to drown out the animosity. It might even have been Gene and Chris's uncanny ability to talk them into anything, regardless of how stupid it made them look. Plus, Gene locking the pair of them in a stationary cupboard for a day might have had a little something to do with it.

There's nothing to do but talk it out when you're surrounded by office supplies. So, they'd talked, ironed it all out. They still bicker, still throw barbed comments but now it's more out of fun than hatred.

Sam's sat at a booth, watching Jeanie play with her first child and feels so bloody lucky. He's been given a second chance to have a family, even if they aren't blood, they might as well be.

Chris is perched on a stool at the bar, chortling about something Gene's just said and bouncing his second grandchild on his knee. This one's Mack's. The little shit is too much like his 'Uncle Genie' for it to be healthy. He'd got a girl pregnant at 17 and they'd married. They've since split but Chris and Ray still get to spend time with Jimmy. He's two years old, has a pair of blue eyes that'll melt many a heart when he gets old enough and he's as cheeky as Ray. Basically, they're gonna have their hands full in years to come.

Ray's playing darts, badly, and cursing loudly. Every so often Chris scolds him for his language and he looks sorry for about five minutes until he misses another shot then it's back to 'Fuckin' bastard flights are bent' and, this is Sam's personal favourite, 'They've moved the board, they've moved the bloody board'.

Even Annie's there.

She and Sam'd spent a good ten years not talking. She'd dropped off the face of the planet until one day he'd spotted her walking the street with her kids and his masochistic instincts'd kicked in and he'd gone over to say hello.

Initially she'd ignored him, until curiosity'd gotten the better of her and she'd had to ask 'Still with him then?' When Sam'd replied in the affirmative, she'd smiled, actually smiled and said she was pleased for them. She'd also said she'd originally given them a year tops, but if they could put up with each others bad habits and foul moods, then they deserved each other.

A tentative friendship had bloomed, the odd phone call, sporadic 'coffee dates' until she'd plucked up the courage to actually visit with them properly. Gene'd been suitably nervous but Sam'd told him to belt up. He'd faced down murderers, one woman shouldn't have him so bloody scared.

The jibe'd worked and when she'd knocked the door, he'd answered it with his usual bravado, causing Annie to laugh, tell him he was a complete fucking prick and that, had been that. Nothing spectacular or overly angsty, just an old friend letting bygones be bygones.

Sam still marvels at her generous, giving nature. If it'd been him, he's not so sure he could have forgiven quite so easily. She was always the nicest of the bunch though.

She's currently chatting to Lissy, Ray and Chris's 'middle child', and smiling softly at whatever the two women have found to gab about. Sam still thinks she's beautiful, it's just, he no longer feels the pang of regret when he looks at her now. Just something warm settling in his stomach.

Sam stands, walks towards the bar and wraps his arms round Gene's shoulders. "Having a good time, birthday boy?"

"Aye, 'specially seen as Chris's just been tellin' me 'bout the time Ray got his todger caught in his zip"

Sam's face crumples in sympathy then he too laughs. Ray saunters towards them, plants his pint on the bar in front of Chris and cuffs him round the ear "Will you stop tellin' every fucker that'll listen that I'm a plonker. They already know, don't need you remindin' 'em"

Sam feels something brush his arm and he turns to see Annie, smirking and nodding towards Ray "He ever tell you 'bout the time I caught him and Chris 'at it' in amongst the archives?"

Sam's eyebrows shoot into his hairline and he shakes his head. He hears Gene chuckle, Ray sigh and Chris giggle, then he motions for her to continue and she grins, "Lets just say, I didn't know one man could be that hairy"

Sam grimaces and turns towards Ray, is about to come out with something witty and cutting when Annie cuts in "I didn't say it was Ray, did I?"

Gene's just taken a mouthful of his pint and it ends up covering the back of the bar, Sam has to thump a hand on his back to stop him from choking. When he turns to Chris, he's blushing like a little girl and Ray's beaming from ear to ear.

He feels Gene settle back into his arms, leaning against his chest and can't resist dropping a kiss into his whispy hair.

Ray's got one arm propped on Chris's shoulder and he's running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Sam thinks they must look like a bunch of complete poofs then realises, they are. It makes him giggle, until a crash goes up behind them and he turns to see Jimmy sitting in a puddle of beer and howling like a banshee.

Everyone pushes forward to sort the lad out and he and Gene are left alone at the bar. He feels Gene's fingers twin with his own and hears him ask "Happy?"

Sam looks around the room at his family and friends then rests his chin on top of Gene's head and says "Oh yes"


	21. Who's to say?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyesight may be failing but it isn't that bad!

It's been decades since Sam Tyler first crash landed into Gene Hunt's life.

They've seen fashions change, Prime Ministers fall. Sam'll never forget the look on Gene's face when they announced Maggie Thatcher's tenure.

They've lived through bust ups and make ups. They've fallen in and out of love with scary amounts of people. None so note worthy as themselves.

They've survived 2 failed marriages, several promotions and the hell of a long distance relationship. Friends have come and gone, each leaving their own little bit of wisdom behind. Family will always be family, even if it isn't blood.

They tried to ignore each other. They moved to different cities for Christ's sake. Still they couldn't ignore the connection they'd forged all those years ago.

The days of Manchester CID will be, in Sam's opinion, the best of his life. He met some fantastic characters, made some wonderful life long friends. Even if half those friends only came to like him because of Gene and the grudging respect he bestowed upon him.

Now a days they spend there time in comfy silence, huddled close on the sofa, like a couple of love sick teenagers. Holding hands in the park, walking the dogs. Hopping on and off buses, stewed as newts.

Creating hassle and reeking havoc where ever they decide to roam. Sam loves it and he loves Gene and he's pretty sure Gene loves him. After all these years he best bloody well do.

He doesn't regret that car hitting him just as he doesn't regret throwing himself off the CID building.

They were all steps to where he was going, and where he was going was here, happy and content. God what a sickly bastard he is.

They're old, the pair of them. Far older than they have any business being. All though he'll never let Gene forget the fact he's ten years his Senior. Even if Gene is older, he sure as hell isn't wiser.

It'd taken Sam so many trips to London, so many frantic, pleading phone calls to get Gene to admit he missed him and wanted to come home.

Even after Gene'd transferred 'home' it took another few years before he'd dare hold Sam's hand in public, or grab a quick snog in front of people. Fair enough, that was Gene. Old fashioned. Not so old fashioned he was above shagging Sam into the hood of his Cortina and then later his Quattro.

Still, too old fashioned to do something as daring as walking hand in hand in a public place.

The face Gene'd pulled, the abuse he'd hurled at him when Sam'd taken his hand one day as they were walking along the street and refused to let go. He'd had bruises for weeks after that. It was worth it though.

Now, they don't have to worry, gay couples, even old gay couples, are accepted.

It's 2006, the year it all changed for Sam. He can still remember laying on that road feeling like hammered shit and then waking up in big collars and flared trousers. Petrified he'd lost his mind. Even more terrified that he hadn't.

Gene and Sam are taking their usual Monday afternoon stroll. Sam still loves to watch the wind ruffle Gene's hair, the way the sunlight plays across it, even if it is white and whispy these days.

Sam's leading the way. His feet have taken on a life of their own. He doesn't know why he's wandering this way but he's content to go with it. Having learned a long time ago to trust his instincts.

The squeal of tires and the thunk of a body hitting the tarmac brings them to a halt. Gene's off first, legging it over the intersection, crouching down.

When Sam eventually rolls up, huffing and puffing and pulling out his mobile, Gene looks as though he's seen a ghost. He shifts slightly, allowing Sam to see the man laying prone at his feet.

Sam's head spins. His eyesight's bad these days but it isn't that bad. He know's this man. He is this man. Or at least he was or will be, however it works.

There's a wry smile playing about Sam's lips. He reaches down, tugs on Gene's shirt and motions for him to follow. Gene looks panicked, shell shocked.

"Sammy, this is..it's..bloody 'ell it's you"

Sam dials 999 and reports the accident. Then he grips Gene's arm and hauls him to his feet.

"Tyler, bloody say something you bastard" Gene still hasn't gotten out of the habit of using his surname, even after all this time.

"What do you want me to say Gene? Told you so, I wasn't lying, you called me a fruit loop and you were wrong, what?"

Gene hears the distant sound of sirens and sighs. He'd called Sam all sorts. Now he knows what a prat he'd really been.

"We can't just leave him, you"

"Yes, we can. Come on Gene. Please"

"But why? We could 'elp, stop it, all of it from 'appening. All that bollocks you went through..." All that bollocks I put you through.

Sam reaches up, cups his wrinkled cheek and smiles "Because this, this is where it all begins. For me, for us"

Gene stares transfixed "Really? You wouldn't change it, none of it?"

Sam leans up and kisses him gently, one single tear fighting to free itself from his aged lashes "Not for the world"

Gene and Sam walk away, not looking back. They're back at the beginning and who are they to say when and where that is?


	22. Always...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so to the beginning

It's taken a ridiculous amount of military style planning to get every thing and every one in the right place at the right time but they've managed it, finally.

As far as Gene's concerned they're way too old for all this shit but it's making Sam happy and Gene's all about the business of making his picky pain-in-the-arse lover happy, even if he still occasionally wants to bang his head against the nearest available flat surface.

Sam's ability to royally tick him off, even though they're well into old age, never fails to amaze and amuse the retired DCI.

It's been a good long while since Gene's even thought about the time before, before Sam came crashing into his life feet first and threw everything he knew off kilter. Now, stood opposite each other in a room full of friends and extended family, Gene can remember exactly how it used to be and he's so glad he met the man, even if it took them years to realize exactly what it was they meant to each other.

Who'd have thought all those years ago that they'd be able to do this?

When Sam'd said attitudes change, Gene'd never even contemplated he meant this.

The gathering's far from quiet and Gene can hear various children squealing and parents hushing them, someone's snoring and he's pretty sure he can hear Ray whispering sweet nothing's to Chris. Sappy sods.

Like he's got room to talk.

Suited and booted and wearing the daftest grin in history, Gene can't help the ebb and flow of contentment sweeping his system, making him feel like the luckiest bloke this side of the equator.

Gene reckons he could probably scale a building with all the excess energy bouncing round his body right this second, not bad going for a bloke in his seventies.

Smiling softly, looking Sam up and down, Gene thinks he's never been more attractive. Despite the greying, thinning hair and the wrinkles, in spite of the borrowed teeth and inch thick glasses, not in the entire thirty four years since this all started has Gene been so happy and proud to call someone his own.

Sam's the very picture of amazed glee which amuses Gene because this was all Sammy's idea in the first place yet he looks like he's just woken up in front of fifty people and has no clue how he got there.

Suddenly Gene's thrown back a few months to the day he discovered that his other half wasn't actually a crazed delusion-filled weirdo but a time travelling coma victim and he can't help the shiver rippling down his spine.

Seeing Sam, the original Sam, lying on that road helpless and alone made Gene want to wrap his Sam up in cotton wool.

Even if Sam says getting hit by that car was the best thing that ever could've happened to him, Gene's blood still runs cold at the thought of him lying in some hospital bed, cold and unmoving and lost.

Sam's explained it all properly now, the unedited, unabridged version of events. The crash, the voices, the creepy girl and her creepy clown. Even Morgan and his 'Hyde' identity. Everything.

More than once Gene's asked, pleaded, that they go and see the young Sam in hospital but he's always told the same thing, 'There's no need, I'm right here'.

Despite having Sam here in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch, Gene can't help the guilt at the things he put his partner through, all because he didn't believe him, couldn't believe him.

There's still something Sam isn't telling him but even sixty seven year old time travelling, coma hopping coppers are allowed their secrets and Gene won't push, not when he's been given a second chance at happiness.

So, instead of visiting a man who's able to be in two times and several places at once and is against all the laws of nature and the universe, Sam and Gene are stood in front of a group of people they couldn't have made it to this point without, ready to announce to the world that this is where they want to be.

Grinning, fingers linked, they turn to the guy in the collar and nod once.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."


	23. Christmas is bloody cancelled.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's about to start channel'ing Gene and break all the toys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always, to my beautiful beta jj1564, for the quick turn around and lovely comments, especially seen as this isn't her fandom <3 This is for talkingtothesky, a very old (as in time we've known each other, lol) and dear lj friend who was one of those people that kept waving pompoms at me whenever I faltered in my writing. Way back in the day I was an avid Life on Mars'er and she kept me going when I almost didn't finish my Who's to Say 'Verse (Which took a damned year and so many hair pulling moments I nearly cried!) Well now, for her birthday, I've finally added a chapter to that 'verse. Hope you enjoy it hun.

Gene wanders into the living room, whiskey tumbler in hand, and rolls his eyes when he spots Sam - creaky knees and crook back be damned - squished onto the floor with his tongue poking out the side of his mouth, as he tries and fails to figure out how to fit batteries into Ray and Chris’ grandchild’s Lightsaber.

There’s no way on earth Sam’s listening to Ray moan like a little bitch with a skinned knee for the entire day because Jimmy can’t actually use his brand new shiny toy and is making his Granpop’s life a living nightmare.

Sam shudders at the memory of Ray’s whinging voice and Gene’s loud guffaws, and continues to struggle with the damned piece of plastic rubbish making him want to tear what’s left of his hair out. “Frigging bastard fucking thing! That’s it, Christmas is bloody cancelled.”

Gene can’t help the smirk on his face or the rush of warmth at Sam’s exaggerated growling and cursing, and almost laughs out loud when Sam nearly bites the tip of his tongue off in concentration and frustration. “Sammy-boy, you know I love it when you swear like that, but I’m thinkin’ a Star Trek whosit isn’t worth you chewin’ off **my** favourite toy.”

Sam’s so busy trying not to rip a fingertip off with the stupidly sharp casing surrounding the battery bay, that he almost screeches like a girl when Gene talks from directly above him. “Shit, Gene, don’t do that! It’s _Star Wars_ , and don’t take the piss, if you think you can do any better, go-a-fucking-head.”

Gene’s never been one to back down from a challenge and especially not one issued by his picky pain in the arse husband.

With a great amount of huffing, puffing and swearing, Gene manages to curl himself onto the floor next to Sam and snatches the ridiculously huge toy out of his hands. “Move aside Sammy, let the expert have a try.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Forty minutes, five plasters, and _lots_ of swearing like a sailor later, Gene and Sam are still huddled in the center of their living room, surrounded by numerous empty battery packets and several drained glasses of whiskey.

“This is fuckin’ daft, it’s a bloody toy, how is it outsmartin’ the _pair_ of us? You I can understand, but me...”

“Sod off, Gene. Who’s the one covered in cuts and plasters?”

“Fine, fine. Can’t we just give Jimmy a fuckin’ gift vouch - “

Gene’s mid-way through imagining stamping all over the toy from hell when their front door bangs inwards. No knock, no hello, just a booming _slam_ as the door handle bounces off the hallway wall.

“What the fuck?”

From the hallway Sam can hear an almighty commotion; cursing and shouting, and the distinct and familiar sound of Ray telling Chris he’s a pillock.

Sam’s just about to try and stand without throwing his hips out when Ray unceremoniously shoves Chris into the room, following behind with a look on his face that’s pleading with someone, _anyone_ , to put a bullet between his eyes. “Alright boss, any chance you can talk some fuckin’ sense into this silly idiot?”

Sam and Gene’s eyes swing to Chris who’s hanging his head and gripping a crumpled box in his hands.

As Chris looks up with red rimmed bloodshot eyes, Ray shakes his head and throws himself into the nearest chair before snatching the almost empty bottle of whiskey off the floor and downing the contents. “Seriously Chris, it’s just a remote controlled Millennium Falcon, it shouldn’t be that bloody hard.”

Gene almost falls backwards with the force of the laughter bubbling up his throat and Sam coughs, averts his eyes and mumbles something about stupid bloody toys and their need to make things over complicated.

Ray raises an eyebrow and stares at the Lightsaber resting on Sam’s crossed legs, and chuckles loudly before patting Gene on the shoulder. “You too, huh? An’ they say _we’re_ the neanderthals.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas morning arrives bright and way too bloody early, with the sounds of Jimmy squealing, bouncing and begging his Grandparents to let him open his presents. His parents, Lissy and Simon, watch with huge amounts of amusement as their son assists in the obliteration of Ray and Chris - and their best friend’s - brain cells, which are already well on their way to dribbling out of their ears as it is.

The Christmas Eve drinking session that Sam, Gene, Ray and Chris have enjoyed every year since well before they retired has done the trick, and they’re all looking like someone tried to murder them in their sleep, so Jimmy’s incessant caterwauling is pushing them past the point of sanity.

Sam winces, Gene screws his eyes shut, Ray openly sticks his fingers in his ears and Chris tries to pretend he isn’t dying a horrible alcohol induced death as he nods at Jimmy and gestures towards the huge stack of gifts all badly wrapped and tucked beneath the Christmas tree. “Go ahead, JimJam, just, take it down a notch, would you?”

Jimmy beams and throws himself at the presents, ripping into the wrapping paper, and howling with delight at his many varied Star Wars themed gifts.

It’s only Lissy who notices the distinct dents and scrapes along the side of the remote controlled Millennium Falcon toy, and the slight bend in the bright blue Lightsaber Jimmy is now swishing around the room and making _wooshing_ noises with.

“Dad, Pops, maybe next year let us put the batteries in, okay?”

It’s not Ray or Chris who answer, but Sam and Gene that leap from their seats - surprisingly spry for two men well into their _later years_ and suffering with hangovers from hell - and throw their arms around Lissy who’s almost barreled off her seat.

“Lissy, my love, ‘ave I ever told you you’re a bloody wonder?”

“Thanks Liss’ that’ll save me having to cover this one in bubble-wrap next year.”

Lissy laughs, Simon chuckles, and Ray tips his hair-of-the-dog glass of whisky at his daughter, whilst Chris whines and moans in the corner.

“Make them Godparents, Ray said, it’ll be fine, he said. Typical, I spend my entire police profession doin’ their paperwork and gettin’ them tea and garibaldis, and now they’re gonna make _my_ daughter sort out **their** Christmas presents. Cheeky buggers!”

Gene lets go of Lissy and straightens before turning to Chris and slapping him round the head. “Once the Guv, always the Guv, Chris, you know that. Merry Friggin’ Christmas.”


End file.
